Kathleen Edwards plays Magic Bag
By OLVIA OLSON
Contributing Reporter
Kathleen Edwards is not your average singer-songwriter.
While the term usually calls to mind the over-earnest, stripped-down,
solo-acoustic and generally female borderline folksinger,, Edwards and this
stereotype have little in common.
This difference was made undeniably evident at her April 6th
show at Ferndale’s The Magic Bag. Equipped with a full band, the Canadian
musician presented her canon of compositions with passion and power and fierce
fidelity to the album cuts.
Her lilting vocals laid comfortably across the ethereal bed
of sound produced by the band’s largely electric instruments, a displeasing
note never reverberating once across the worthy venue’s walls. This is possibly
the most impressive aspect of Edwards’s songwriting — her ability to create personal
and humble lyrics that hold up well against a sweeping, lush musical
background.
Edwards’s passionate stage presence was contagious, and the
playful rapport shared with her band members was made evident by their lively
exchanges and lines broken by laughter, particularly during the performance of
fan favorite “Six o’clock News.” The entire show exuded the powerful joy of
performing live and the particular joy of performing together.
Defying the folksinger stereotype, Edwards accompanied
herself with an electric guitar during her solo performance of the paralyzingly
tragic “Alicia Ross.” The full band’s rendition of “Mercury” began understated
and acoustic, but built into a crescendo of nostalgic rock that revealed the
group’s ability to delve into Cardinals-esque jams onstage.
In fact, Edwards’s entire collection of songs suggests that
she and alt.-country heroes such as Ryan Adams and Sam Beam worship many of the
same musical gods. While she hasn’t yet shared the same level of fame, strong
performances such as this prove her worthy of being cast among this extraordinary
group of young singer-songwriters.
Opening for Edwards was Luke Doucet and the White Falcon, a
pleasantly surprising group who produced boot-stomping music that was pop
enough to be catchy, folk enough to be substantial, and original enough to be
rock and roll.
The most striking element of their music was their flawless harmonies,
particularly the melding of Doucet’s vocals with wife and bandmate Melissa
McClelland’s. Theirs was one of those rare sets during which the desire to
appreciate the live performance combats with the nagging thought, “I hope
they’re this good on the album.”