Success in Failer Kathleen Edwards calls from her pick-up truck, somewhere in rural Quebec near the Ontario border. she's been closing up her home; prepping to leave on a pair of tours that will take her through the American South and the Canadian West and won't likely return her until Christmas. She asks to call back in 20 minutes, as the singer-songwriter-guitarist-violinist-boozehound says she's not a "multi-tasker." She next checks in from a diner, the clatter of cutlery clear in the background, and recalls her spring trip to the States, playing the South by Southwest music festival in Austin. Her fiery performance sealed a distribution deal with roots-oriented Rounder Records - complementing her MapleMusic domestic deal - for her indie release, Failer, which she's been selling from the stage since last February. "It was one of those things where we had a few people come out to see us and no one knew who I was - no one still knows who I am - but the people we wanted to come out came," the 24-year-old recalls. "But I did get the sense that what I was doing was a back-roads kind of thing. It's roots-rock, but hopefully it's not generic and it has a little edge to it." Interestingly, an L.A. singer-songwriter who played after Edwards' set claimed that being Canadian has a certain romanticized cachet among american artists at the moment. "He goes, 'it's the place to be from right now.' because the industry is so much less prevalent in Canada, people are writing songs and it's not just to get record deals." Sure, it may not feel that way here in Toronto, where Queen West is positively crawling with musicians seeking exactly that, but Edwards lives near Wakefield, QC, a rustic backwoods burg boasting greater Ottawa's finest old-school jukejoint, the Black Sheep Inn. She moved there (after years spent living in Ottawa's downtown core) in the midst of a failed relationship and an increased appetite for alcohol, finding a "cardboard-wall farmhouse" and much-needed solitude. "I woke up every morning to the sound of buses, and I think that just wore on me," she recalls. "I went out every night and drank, and I needed a break. I got to this point in my young life where I needed some space." Soon she had herself a timeless collection of expansive alt-country soundscapes backing her oft-sarcastic, whiskey-fired vocals about lost love and last call. (Many of ottawa's finest players lent a hand, mixing banjos, lap steel, organs and the odd, mournful rock-out.) "When I was writing them I was being purely honest about what I was going through - and a lot of that was because I wasn't in the city and I didn't have to play these songs in front of a crowd of people," Edwards says. "I lot of those songs I never played live until I recorded them in the studio. Maybe that's part of it: they were really private, and what came out of it was a record that people can relate to." Joshua Ostroff Eye Weekly				Album reviews Feature articles Interviews Show reviews