Photo of Kathleen Edwards by Kate York Photography
Somehow, it’s already been five years since Kathleen Edwards came out of musical retirement with Total Freedom, which was her clear-eyed and affecting first album in eight years. Much appears to have changed for Edwards in the ensuing half decade since that return. She sold Quitters, the coffee shop she opened after dropping out of the music business, and relocated from her hometown of Ottawa, Ontario to her adopted home state, Florida. She also made a new record, Billionaire. Wisely, Billionaire doesn’t try to recreate the unrepeatable confluence of events that led to Total Freedom’s gracious honesty. Instead, Edwards focuses on what comes after the comeback. It makes for a somewhat more guarded listen, albeit one that’s still capable of moments of touching beauty and brutal honesty.
Billionaire is bolstered throughout by Jason Isbell on guitars and production. Edwards doesn’t need Isbell for the record to succeed, but his presence amplifies the innate warmth of her songs, and lends a spacious sonic clarity to her heartfelt tributes and stylish kiss-offs.
The title track is an ode to a dear, departed friend. It takes a potentially tired but true sentiment, that a person is rich who has friends, and turns it into a slowly building song that swells with a sense of gratitude that makes it truly affecting. “FLA,” a breezy love song to her new home, evokes Florida’s native sons John Anderson and Tom Petty. It’s a joyful tune that exudes rejuvenation and a sense of place. Elsewhere, “Little Red Ranger” watches with pride and welling tears in eyes as she visits a young Canadian who moved to Los Angeles and isn’t coming back. She could be singing about a family friend, but it’s also a song that will resonate with parents who have watched their kids leave the nest and settle somewhere far away. It’s heartfelt and funny—the ability to do both at the same time is one of Edwards’ greatest songwriting gifts.
“When the Truth Comes Out” rides a swaggering rhythm and incisive melody to savage “kings [who] lose their crowns and nobody wants to stick around.” The driving “Say Goodbye, Tell No One” celebrates the fact that people (and circumstances) change, and that it’s possible to embrace the freedom—and attendant terrifying responsibility—that comes with quitting a job, relationship, or place that is no longer working for you.
The only song that misses the mark is “Need a Ride.” It’s a bitter, dismissive-sounding litany of culture-war issues Edwards apparently thinks people shouldn’t get worked up about, and is shockingly devoid of the empathy her songs are usually stuffed with. The song is so tonally jarring that it almost doesn’t sound like it was written by the same person who wrote all of the other songs on the album. If it’s an attempt at nuanced social commentary, it sails wide of the mark by being somehow both too literal and not specific enough. The song’s complaints and slow tempo makes it plod along—it would be easier to gloss over if it wasn’t a ponderous six minutes long.
While Billionaire isn’t a career-defining work, it is a strong set of songs that‘s both humble and unapologetic, which isn’t easy to pull off. The record deftly illustrates Edwards’ 25-year journey from one-time alt country darling to something more all-encompassing: songwriter. | Mike Rengel
