Archive for the tag "edith frost ep"

Edith Frost: Authentic, heartsick, personal & poignant

From a cool and steel gray channel encompassing the horizon, a glimmer of hope emerges. Beauty and optimism slowly wrap around your being as you witness flower petals effortlessly dancing upon the water’s surface with candles calmly floating on leaves set adrift under the dwindling light. Edith Frost is the voice from which the glimmer, the beauty and the optimism spring forth in introspective gentleness.

An Early Frost

Edith Frost approaches roots music in a conscious, educated way. Though such an approach can sometimes lead to stagy, patronizing disasters, Frost resembles fellow country/folk troubadour Gillian Welch in coming at her late-found love with an affection so open and humble that it precludes condescension. And even though Frost’s self-released EP of last year¹ and her full-length album Calling Over Time were released on Chicago’s ultra-hip indie label Drag City, she seems embarrassed by the notion of being part of some "hip" scene. She’s just a 33-year old working gal in Chicago, thrilled to get her first $3000 royalty check from Drag City and trying to figure out how to buy a vehicle so she can go on the road more. "Last May was the first time I played in a town I didn’t live in," she explains.

I have a problem with nudity. Maybe I’m a little too conservative. Maybe I’m a little prude. But honestly, I have too much trouble getting into the shower to want to be exposed to it, pun intended. So when I’m finally ripe, finally cave I just keep my head up, look at the wall, and feel around for dirt. Usually with the lights off. But this Edith Frost. With the reassurance of a gentle kiss on the shoulder provides the resounding echo of reassurance. These aren’t light numbers… I’m completely serious, and completely thankful.

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.

If a female cross between Skip Spence and Nick Drake could be imagined, the result would be somewhere near the sound of Edith Frost. On this four-song EP, our heroine sets off the melancholy meter with a ghostly combination of her voice and sparse, acoustic guitar. However, this isn’t any sort of insipid Liz Phair / Mary Lou Lord jive-fest that finds the protagonist moaning and whining over poorly played guitar in an attempt for indie-rock cred. Nor does Frost seem to have any sort of tolerance for either folk or country music. As such, these four songs exist in that sort of uncomfortable ether occupied by musicians like Kendra Smith (who is evoked on the echoey "My God Insane") — musicians who make music that sounds ilke, well, music. That its lone musical accompaniment is guitar (except for the weird drum machine on "Waiting Room"), that it’s sung by a woman and that it’s released by Drag City are all irrelevant when it comes to the perfect simplicity of these genre-less songs. They are simply songs, and that, in this day of rampant pigeonhole-over-quality thinking, is a refreshing reminder that there are actually people out there who still care more about the music they play than the description they fit. Simple is good.

When I was little, my mother used to sing a tragic Japanese song to me that would send chills up and down my spine. It was always one of my favorite songs. Edith Frost’s new single has the same melancholy effect. There’s a pervasive sadness in her songs, a haunting and beautiful fragility in the simplicity of the guitar and voice. The hollowness of the recording makes Frost’s sweet, clear voice resonate like it’s the only voice in the world. Aside from maybe Leonard Cohen…

This four-song EP provides a voyeuristic glimpse into the innermost sanctum of songwriter Edith Frost, a silvery-voiced Austinite-turned-Brooklynite with a few insecurities to work out. Though Frost has hearned her keep in a variety of country and rockabilly bands, her spare, compelling songs don’t need the kind of help a melodramatic pedal steel guitar or upright bass would provide. Indeed, her striking demo tape — with one exception, it’s nothing more than a rudimentary, buzzing guitar and her eerie doubled-up vocals — was enough to convince the folks at Drag City to press the recording as it was.

Four songs on this EP from a lady going solo. I lost the press sheet for this record (all apologies) so I’ll just give the opinion part. It’s a folk album and a sad one at that. I’m not into the music much but at least it ain’t that garbage that every bar in Buffalo specializes in on Friday nights. It’s original, something Buffalo knows almost nothing about - just look at our newspaper. If you like the traditional 6 string - the kind that switches from major to minor chords (I think), then this will be the sparkle in your eye.

In the finest bedroom-rock tradition, Edith Frost crafts personal, evocative songs that easily transcend the confines of the four walls in which they were spun. The four songs on Frost’s first release, a self-titled EP (Drag City), are demo recordings on which she’s backed only by guitar and Casio keyboard, but they seem to have absorbed a spooky, folk-tinged vibe that can’t have originated in her Brooklyn apartment. On "Blame You" she could be re-interpreting a blues staple, her voice graceful and crafty (not unlike Lida Husik’s), while on "My God Insane" she sounds like Kendra Smith in Opal’s earliest days — a weighty compliment if ever there was one. Frost is currently in the studio recording material for a full-length, which will hopefully surface later this year. But also in the bedroom-rock tradition, it’s hard to know when we’ll be invited in to hear her work.

Every once in a while you see a performance by an unknown artist that makes you immediately want them to put out a record. Edith Frost had that impact last summer so it’s been a long wait for this EP. Though her performance was with a full band, this debut outing indicates that she has been making music in a solo homespun tradition for quite some time. The Brooklyn denizen spent her youthful days in the large state of Texas, an influence that shows in her often blues-y strums. The first two songs are acoustic guitar pieces with an edge of a traditional roots twang, while the other two branch off into a lighter, echo-y realm. The salient element of Frost’s songs is her charming, melodious voice, which is double-tracked and wrapped around itself on these songs. While the EP was worth the wait, it’s still not quite enough to sate our appetites. Until there’s more Edith, play the dejected guitar strums of "Blame You" or the dream-like Casio-tinkering on "Waiting Room."

This is creepy and pretty, but’s it’s both a very good time and a very bad time to be a singer/songwriter gal w. guitar. Good cause they’re clocking ducats, but bad cuz you can’t open your front door w/o knocking one over these days. Hopefully this ghost music will rise above the sea of sisters.