It is with great anticipation that one looks forward to a new Edith Frost record.  Like Barbara Manning, Frost hardly releases a record every other month, and thus her albums have a careful, thoughtful quality about them.  When Drag City released her aching, desolate Telescopic, its production values attracted an entirely new group of fans, those who were already listening to Bill Callahan (Smog) and Cat Power.  But her new record stands alone, separating her once again from her ostensible peers (has she _any_ at this point?).

A gifted songwriter with a knack for sad, ethereal country songs, Edith Frost stands apart from the No Depression pack with her willingness to experiment.  Her first album, Calling Over Time, suspended her tender melodies and drawling vocals in an oddly detached celestial haze; 1998’s Telescopic replaced the haze with a thick layer of electric fuzz.  On Wonder Wonder, the fog lifts, and what emerges is Frost’s most straightforward and focused album to date.  It’s tempting to call this a return to basics, but that’s not entirely accurate; indeed, with more than a dozen supporting players, it’s certainly her most ambitious production (thanks to Rian Murphy).  Frost’s songwriting is as reliably strong as ever, with a noticeably lighter touch to even the most melancholy songs.  The title track has a nicely jaunty feel (complete with a clarinet break), and the upbeat, ornate "Cars and Parties" sounds like a hit single for a better world.  Edith Frost has long occupied her own unique space somewhere between the country and indie-rock worlds, and Wonder Wonder is another worthwhile addition to her impressive catalog.

Following up her stunning Telescopic album, Edith Frost gives us three new songs.  On this EP, Frost brings together Rick Rizzo, Mark Greenberg, Ryan Hembrey and Archer Prewitt to help and I do think this is Frost’s best band yet.  "Love Is Real" and "Between Us" sound a lot like Frost’s debut LP, Calling Over Time except the sound is much fuller.  The last song, "The Last One", is a great up-beat, country-edged song that features just Frost and her guitar.*  Overall, great stuff, but three songs is such a tease.  Oh well, this will just have to hold the fans over until another album emerges… hopefully soon!

"Love is real/ Real is love/ Love is asking/ To be loved."  No, this is not a cover of John Lennon’s 1971 (Johnson & Johnson lotion ad) classic.  And it’s a good thing, because while Frost would do an excellent cover of that Plastic Ono Band gem, her song is much more refreshing.

Intended as a stop-gap between Edith’s second and third albums, this three-track single is a satisfying snack before the next main course.  Edith just gets better and better.  Her songs are subtle and gentle but they are also extremely memorable and tuneful, lingering in your head like a sweet hang-over.  More soon, please.

Make no mistake, Edith Frost prefers the high road of honesty when expressing her sentiments, at least in song.  Witness the chills running up your spine as she calls to her lover, "Is there anything left to talk about?  My love is real," in a honey-sweet voice that’s as soft as a down pillow yet powerful enough to evoke the appropriate imagery.  "Love Is Real" is a sultry lure of hipswaying rhythm.  Her straightforward lyrics are backed by light drumming, organ and acoustic guitars.  The woozy, lilting waltz of "Between Us" and the humorous lyrics to the countrified acoustic stomp of "The Last One," where it’s just Frost, her husky voice and guitar,* complete this enjoyable trifecta of music from Drag City’s fairest maiden.

A quick teaser from the softest and most lovely queen of indie folk, Ms. Edith Frost.  A few seasons after her last effort, the full-length Telescopic album (which veered into the plugged-in slightly dreamy rock side of things), Edith comes back home with some more solitary and heart-bending yet somewhat up-beat stargazing ballads about confessions of love and relationships in the way only Edith can.  She then ropes you in on the third track with a solo twangy hoe-down whisky jug of a song, "The Last One."  Overall, this quick three-song EP is a treat for fans of Frost, and a purty introduction for those not yet lucky enough to be acquainted.  Fear not; hers is not nose-pierced, purple cornrow, jack booted, Ani DiFranco pissed off indie folk, but rather sweet strummings and outstanding vocals from a wonderfully talented yet simple musician.

Say no to the Cathy ("Ack!") feminism of the Lilith Fair and yes to the no-bullshit, serene self-confidence of Edith Frost.  This ghost-voiced lady makes the best pretty pop songs, countryish but with a definite Cocteau Twins appreciation.  Melancholy, catchy, understated and not coming to a Revlon commercial near you.

As long as people fall in love and feel insecure about it, there will be a need for songs like "Love Is Real."  Frost rides a gliding, instantly memorable melody borne by a swinging mid-tempo rhythm to lay it on the line to a potential lover.  "Between Us," which is underpinned by a lonely harmonica, carries its torch more quietly.  Deny her and it’s your loss, chump.  "The Last One," a brief C&W tune accompanied only by Frost’s acoustic guitar,*  is about guys like you.  These songs are produced with more clarity and less of a woozy, psychedelic aura than the material on her last album, Telescopic, and are better for it.

As interesting as the acidic production by Royal Trux was on Edith Frost’s Telescopic last year, hindsight reveals that simple suits her better.  Frost’s new single Love Is Real (Drag City) was produced by Rian Murphy — who did such a good job on her debut, Calling Over Time — and features some lovely acoustic melancholia laid down by Archer Prewitt, Rick Rizzo, Ryan Hembrey, and Mark Greenberg.

This three-song disc is a captivating display of the talents of Ms. Frost.  The ambling, full-bodied "Love Is Real" is an enthused proclamation of love, in which Frost unleashes her strongest voice over a backdrop of guitars and drums, punctuated by chirping keyboards.  Meanwhile, the remaining tracks, "Between Us" and "The Last One," are a return to the loping, country-folk-rock rant for which Frost is known.

<…> Well, those of us there were very happy to get to hear the great Edith Frost sing her blue melodies of heartbreak.  She had with her Amy Domingues (of Tsunami and Telegraph Melts) playing cello, while Edith played her baby blue Stratocaster that I fell in love with the first time I saw her, in New York last year.  Edith had a full band with her then, so I was looking forward to this show and its stripped-down nature.  Her first album, Calling Over Time resembles this line-up, while Telescopic, her second, brings in more instruments at a louder volume.

Edith Frost’s timing couldn’t have been better.  The softie, punchless poutings of the Sarah McLachlans and Paula Coles and Alanis Morissettes have the eyes and ears of Grammy.  Brilliant troubadours like Shawn Colvin and Lucinda Williams are getting their due.  Even Liz Phair decided to resurface.  Let’s face it — women have arrived in the world of music.  And with a rich, morphing sophomore effort like Telescopic, Frost might be ready to take the world by storm.

Somewhere between a more well-adjusted Chan Marshall and a shyer Mary Timony, Edith Frost’s voice has a ghostly quality all its own.  Floating wispily above a lazy, strummy backing, the voice at first listen sounds so subdued it’s barely there at all.  Listen again and you realize that wan whisper you took for granted is skillfully navigating some amazingly improbable melody lines, meanwhile creating a subtly powerful, seductive atmosphere.