2005/03/17  SXSW, Caribbean Lights; Austin, TX ... Next up is essential favorite Kathleen Edwards, whom we first saw here at SXSW two years ago playing a second-floor sitting room at a Canadian contingent barbecue. Edwards was signed soon after, to solid freshman acclaim. The moment she steps out on stage tonight, it's clear that this is a whole new game. The awkward, adorable, potty-mouthed overeager rebel ingénue is gone, and the Edwards who moves into the light is electric. She's found a focus that makes her performance limpid. A friend standing with us down front, where the picture-taking is good, says she's going to move back, but she never does. We're at the edge of something you can feel on your skin, and retreat is not an option. Edwards has a galvanic, unmistakable voice, clear and slightly tremulous, with a swift drop-off that meets her rocked-out country square in the chops. She's a singer of autumn songs, of weary moonless night songs and ballads without redemption. The downsiders who roam her stories know that whatever it is, it isn't going to work - her first record was called Failer - and she's an intimate writer of numb, silent rage and pointless human frailty. Curiously, perversely, it's uplifting.   Linus Gelber MusicDish				Album reviews Feature articles Interviews Show reviews