You can’t get a more direct than Covers, Kathleen Edwards’ newest short LP/long EP. It lets you know exactly what you got, even before you press play. That is commendable, but then Edwards has never been much for one to conceal her thoughts or her situation. This Canadian singer supreme has had a rocky old trail over the past decade or two, since electing to step away from critical acclaim in 2014, after four well-received albums of polished country and roots-derived songmanship.
The Ottawa coffee shop Edwards subsequently opened and ran was called “Quitters.” That might have been a self-deprecating jibe in name, but it was only later she revealed her then battle with depression had led to her tactical withdrawal from the music business. She returned to music in 2020, we all know what then came along to wreak worldwide havoc. This is her second release since her return, and her first since COVID lockdown and her eventual sale of Quitters.
The eight songs on Covers are a good mix of the likely and the unexpected, broadly drawn from Edwards’ fellow ranks of singer-songwriters. Springsteen, Petty and Pride are among the former, but songs from The Flaming Lips and Supertramp get a turn also. With backing of electric guitars, keyboards, occasional strings and a rhythm section, Edwards sings and plays acoustic. Greg Leisz and Scott Thurston are two of the accompaniments dropping by, on guitars and bass, respectively, each a sign of her esteem amongst peers.
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What a strange and contrary man Evan Dando seems to be. Liked and lauded beyond any reasonable appraisal of the breadth of his output, nonetheless he seems a decent enough dude as to get away with it. Yes, he has written some great material, he has an agreeable voice and an extensive taste in cover versions. He’s also written a lot of filler and chosen strange songs to interpret. All in that agreeable voice, a slightly bruised tenor. Moreover, there is the dichotomy between his live persona and his studio self. His later records suggest an acoustic troubadour, plugging in to widen his listeners palate, yet live he turns it all up to 11, chucking everything at the audience at once, good, bad and indifferent, hoping enough sticks, appearing either not really to care or to notice.
