Rating:   6 Ratings     12345  

Edison Woods 7 Principles of Leave No Trace Edison Woods

      When I first began to get acquainted with this album by Edison Woods, I found myself stuck when I decided not to take it in my car with me. At first I thought there was something wrong with that. 'Why wouldn't I want to listen to this as I drive around?' The question couldn't be answered. Then I began to think about what I had already heard from the disc and about the things I knew of Edison Woods as a complete operative. Part of 'the big picture' behind Edison Woods is experience and thought. The songs are coming from a different place than most and there is a certain degree of ambience here that has to be respected. Not only are you supposed to listen to what the group is saying and doing, but you are supposed to think about HOW you want to hear and experience it.

Track listing: 01 Secrets 02 Muted Thunderstorms 03 Rio Abajo Rio 04 Like A Jewel 05 Was He A Poet 06 Shirts For Pennies 07 Fiction 08 Seven Principles Of Leave No Trace 09 Brooklyn Flowers

      Built around the looming, mysterious, and intoxicating voice of Julia Frodahl, Edison Woods creates a type of music that is able to move and carry on with only the slightest hint of drums here and there. The guitar, usually a staple of every CD on the shelf, plays the background along with the skins in the agenda of this troupe as well. The underlying feat of what this group brings to the table is a dissonance buried in each song that guides the listener's mind off to the left a bit before everything can come together. Winding intros to some songs leave the first hint of vocals waiting for the 1-minute mark to drop and the compositions only benefit from their bout with suspense. In addition to the great use of strings and samples by her surrounding bandmates, Frodahl’s main instrument—the keys, are the last gene in the ‘Woods pool. Each track has a distinct keys resonance to it and one can hardly envision a flashy, state-of-the-art keyboard making the sounds, it would turn these sweet notes sour. Frodahl’s arsenal includes the clav, mellotron, a little synth, straight ahead piano, and, of course, the Fender Rhodes. The title track even sees the singer / ivory handler step behind the vibes on an instrumental tryst that leads up to the final track.

      Julia Frodahl is the femme fatale star of these spook-noir pieces. Each tune is a story backed by the flowing, yet dark tracks made by her seven (or so) counterparts. These songs come together to wrap the singer up and whisk her along the paths through omniscient-tense tales of households in disarray and personal longing as heard on "Like A Jewel" and "Muted Thunderstorms", respectively. Whether she is speaking in the first or third persons, Frodahl's captive powers are hard to escape. Like many other female vocalists with “that” voice, Chan Marshall (Cat Power), Jennifer Charles (Elysian Fields), and Beth Gibbons (Portishead) to name a few, the ability to suck listeners deep into a song is increased tenfold not by finding that perfect progression, beat, or gimmick, but simply by letting the singer be herself. The result is something ear pricklingly out of the ordinary and just enough so that a fingerprint of their sound is created and cannot be duplicated.

      There are many moments where the star is not in the scene, however, and we get a great look at the parallel action. Britta Steiner (violin), Linnea Weiss (cello), and Catherine Bent (cello) are given ample space in the forefront of several passages to contribute feeling and backstory. The bridged portions of tunes like "Was He A Poet" and the instrumental segue piece "Rio Abajo Rio" show the world that these songs live in. Where Frodahl adds the noir, her string section creates the spook. While at times they are beautiful and gentle, there are just as many instances where they are eerie and brooding. The mix is just right from track to track and a great deal of restraint is shown by Edison Woods through the entire album. With strings, samples, and drum machines written on the chalkboard, the band does not screech. There are no epics here, everything is concise. The samples are in the form of a layer rather than a jarring phrase or Halloween sound loop. Weaving everything together, there is nothing but evidence to show that this effort was well planned, well thought out, and soundly executed.

      While the majority of these songs hold up and should keep any attentive listener captivated, the main catch for me is the record's final tune, "Brooklyn Flowers". The piece is very representative of everything that has been mentioned here afore. Frodahl hangs each word on her twinkling keys as she leaves everything to, “The house of wounded soldiers.” With that, she allows herself to be carried off by her cohorts most beautifully to the end of the disc. The track is almost divided in half as the vocals drop out and the final section is played. Not the most dynamic piece of this disc, but again, it ends things making you think about what just happened. You can’t deny correlating the twirling wave of sound that finishes this disc with whatever you see or do while it is playing.

      There is too much mood on this disc to not find a perfect time and place to experience it.

      It should be of no surprise that a group that shape and mold their sounds so well have taken their creation to venues far beyond the, "You stand down there and look up here at Us," glamour of the stage. Edison Woods have done full on visual and performance art pieces and the music on this disc does not seem divisible or subtractable from such an event. Each song is extremely visual and languid and has the power to move the mind through the ears. I can only imagine what it does to the eyes.

      I say 3 ˝ stars today and tomorrow I may have a completely different experience and wish I’d said 4 ˝, its hard to say. I would love to hear more from Edison Woods, not that they aren’t perfectly capable themselves, but I think the right producer could make this group a 5 star no brainer release after release.

      Maybe I will take it in my car…

-Joel Armato 03/09/04