With a pure snowfall of distortion, bending, swirling chords, and a cool, clear voice that rises into the stratosphere like a singular, heavenly choir, Edith Frost’s second album, Telescopic, walks the line between tradition and innovation. Teethed on old country standards, this 34-year-old Texas native, who now lives in Chicago, marries her soft vocals with a winning blend of artsy noise (including the theramin and swells of feedback) traditional instrumentation and a gothic pathos.
Like contemporaries such as 16 Horsepower, Palace and Tarnation, Frost understands the delicate balance between light and dark, beauty and the beast. Vocally, Frost shies away from traditional honky-tonk stylings; her icy fire of a voice calls to mind a young Sinead O’Connor. She’s a modern-day saloon torch singer lamenting lost lovers, lives and convictions with a harsh, implacable sorrow. On “The Very Earth” her dulcet voice sweetly harmonizes with a violin that sounds like slowly falling teardrops. The effect, like that of a favorite Patsy Cline or Hank Williams song, is at once comforting and chilling.
“You’ll be lonely when you’ve got someone who loves you/You can be lonely with someone you trust.” Frost sings, as if crooning a lilting lullaby to her dearest child. “You can’t just tell your heart where it should go/’Cause darlin’ you know you’ll always be lonely.”
