Archive for the tag "bad reviews"

As Edith Frost’s latest album makes clear, she is a very talented woman.  First, she knows how to make warm country pop that could melt just about anyone, even her notoriously cold sound engineer, Steve Albini.  Second, her voice can croon like Patsy Cline or whine like Liz Phair, sounding equally strong and convincing in either style.  Third, she has impeccable taste in session musicians, who this time include Sea and Cake’s Archer Prewitt, Wilco’s Glenn Kotche and Eleventh Dream Day’s Rick Rizzo.  Last, but certainly not least, she is from Texas.  (OK, that’s not a talent, but it’s still cool.)

In Calling Over Time, Edith Frost and a crew of Drag City all-stars built a lovely, melancholic mood, with David (Gastr del Sol) Grubbs’ piano and organ inserting unsettling chords into low-key country arrangements.  But on Telescopic, Frost’s new Drag City release, a new cast of musicians gave her an almost prog-rock backing, while her vocals, so clear and cold on the first LP, are multi-tracked, burying their distinctive tone under studio frippery.  Looks like she’s building a career along the lines set out by labelmate Will Oldham, whose successive albums and tours are perversely inconsistent, marked by changing sidemen and changing arrangements for no clear purpose other than change itself.  Which is to say, who knows which Edith Frost will appear at this show?  She’s playing with Lullaby for the Working Class and Jana McCall, who went a bit Pink Floyd-y herself on her Up Records debut, so we could be in for the wrong kind of retro-’70s night.

Sat Feb 6 at the Breakroom.

Not quite as poetic as she wants to be, Edith Frost is kind of like a Sandy Denny for the Chicago post-rock crew.  On country-noise records like the just-out Telescopic, she writes dim melodies that threaten to turn into 150-watt folk-pop tunes.  And on tunes like 1997’s lovely ballad "Too Happy," Frost drowns her sad, sketchy lyrics in a kind voice that ought to communicate in complete sentences.

An ex-traditionalist who sought out ’30s country acts and ye olde country swing for her early covers bands, Edith Frost isn’t quite the timepiece you’d expect. Sure there’s a definite country tinge to this music, and the lo-fi, naive sound sometimes suits, but there’s not a lot of depth or technical skill.

We’re all familiar with how most rock critics view an artist’s sophomore effort.  It’s considered trial by fire or some sort of mystical barrier to be passed through successfully.  The alternative to victory?  To wind up a charred hunk of detrius on the far side, never to be seen or heard from again.  Bunk.  Most artists feel a genuine need to expand upon their style or test new waters the second time out.  The second record often becomes a training ground for the third, so you can see the problem the aforementioned attitude could have on the future of an artist who takes creative risks.

The timbre of Frost’s voice holds its own with Margo Timmins of Cowboy Junkies, Liz Phair and Barbara Manning. The lonely desperation and emotional struggles of the lyrics make Frost a peer of Lisa Germano. The murky, acoustic production suits Frost’s songs and voice. So why doesn’t Calling Over Time work the way a Lisa Germano or Liz Phair record works? Because it’s too quiet, the songs lack strong melodies or structure, and the whole thing just sounds too damn dreary and offhand. Or maybe not dreary enough: This music, at worst, sounds merely dim, not truly dark. Only on the solid final cut, "Albany Blues," (vaguely reminiscent of Bobby "Blue" Bland’s version of "St. James Infirmary"), does Frost break out of her mildly downcast mode and launch into something more direct and memorable.

Intensely depressing songs of lost love and yearning for dead lovers, oozing with sadness, melancholy and despair. Minimal, dirge-like, mostly acoustic accompaniment (guitar, piano, organ) evoke a really depressed Mazzy Star, if that’s possible. Unlike blues, which can cheer up a broken heart, this will push you to contemplate suicide if you’re THAT low! Not my cup of tea these days! (1, raised to 2 so as not to bum Ms. Frost out too much further!)

Edith Frost a disappointing addition to Drag City
‘Calling Over Time’ settles for mediocrity

From its inception, Drag City Records has been on the forefront of the music industry.  Where others were too shy or hesitant, Drag City charged ahead, braving new and uncharted waters, discovering sonic exotica every time.  Looking back at the seminal first records by Pavement, the adoption of avant-garde superstars Gastr del Sol, the careful cultivation of the latent talents of Bill "Smog" Callahan, the rescuing of Mayo Thompson and the Red Krayola from 1960s obscurity (into 1990s obscurity), and Palace, it seems that the folks at Drag City knew something that no one else did.

But with the release of Edith Frost’s Calling Over Time, it seems that whatever remarkable intuition and foresight the masterminds behind Drag City once had is faltering — or they’re now settling for mediocrity, which is what mostly stands out from this album.

Unlike labelmate Bill "Smog" Callahan, Edith Frost’s earnest-hearted acoustic pitter-patters are painfully uncompelling.  She tries her damndest to stir your soul, but since her music — though sometimes pretty and all — has little soulful quality itself, Frost’s efforts entirely in vain. [sic]

There’s an Edith Frost in your town. Probably more than one. You know, she’s that boho folkie who’s always strumming her guitar shyly in the corner, singing quietly into the hair dangling limply in front of her face. She sounds pretty good if you don’t pay attention. Problem is, when you actually do listen, there’s not much going on.