Review: Edith Frost

Edith Frost - It's A Game
Drag City
Released: November 15, 2005
Rating: B

Let's just get this out of the way: I hate the label "alt-country." In most ways, "alt-country" is a purer form of the art than almost all of the pap you hear passed off for country on the radio. Hokey humor, Whitney Houston-style divas, and blue-collar sloganeering have long replaced understated vocalists, simple arrangements, and true heartbreak. While not all mainstream country acts succumb to self-parody, it's the reason that the likes of Kenny Chesney, Shania Twain, and Toby Keith are dominating the genre as the CMAs are on the verge of moving to New York City. NEW YORK CITY?! Do you really think a song such as "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" would stand a chance in the times of "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy?"

Any genre of music is destined to evolve (or devolve) over time, and Edith Frost's It's A Game luckily falls in the category of the former. There are elements of pop music present, but I'm not a total purist. This is country music. After her two previous albums explored more psychedelic and pop territories, this is a return to deceptively simple arrangements. Her sincerity and directness align her more with Alison Krauss and Drag City labelhead Will Oldham than the more, shall we say, "experimental" country acts such as Son Volt or early Wilco. Frost possesses a voice that is subtly sweet and never over the top, reminiscent of early honky-tonkers Patsy Cline and Kitty Wells.

The album's lyrics are very rich in detail and center around the deterioration of relationships. On "What's the Use," she pretty much sums it up with, "I fall in love and end up blue/ It's just the story of what I do." However, she often expounds on the album's title. While the majority of lyrical content focuses on the ending of relationships, there's a sort of whimsy in its fatalism, and she often greets a break-up with a begrudging grin. On the title track, she gives what feels like a play-by-play of a split-up in progress and indicates that she knows all too well how it plays out: "Hey, let's try to get distracted/ Hey, let's try to look away/ Hey, let's try to have a good time/ Everyone knows it's a game." She continues this thought on "Lucky Charm," comparing her love to a toy won from a booth at the fair: "I know it's just a useless little trinket/ And the game was rigged against me from the start."

The music on It's A Game is also refreshingly straighforward. She is most often accompanied by her own angelic harmonies, a simple guitar, upright bass, and piano. There is also ample reverb for the more progressive songs, as well as a good amount of organ. Frost often uses traditional balladry and old-time country techniques while sounding incredibly fresh. Songs like "A Mirage" (which is possibly the best track on the album) and the aforementioned "Lucky Charm" could sit right next to the standards of the genre. She isn't afraid, however, to embellish and take the standard methods in new directions, for instance "My Lover Won't Call" features an organ used to great effect to cast the song in gloomy shadows as she recounts her own experience of moving to Chicago after her divorce; the musical accompaniment is as sparse as her newly empty house.

Edith Frost belongs to a select group that includes Krauss and Oldham: artists who truly understand their deteriorating art form. While their material isn't a carbon copy of their predecessors, it isn't supposed to be. However, they find new ways to push the genre while maintaining its integrity and expressing its sincere heartache. Frost often succeeds admirably, while never losing her own brand of wry, self-deprecating humor.

buy it at insound!