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National Features >

  • SF Weekly

    Viva Farolito!

    Former pros from Latin America help make an "amateur" soccer team unstoppable.

    By Lauren Smiley

  • Houston Press

    The Myth of the Bachelor's Degree

    A growing number of educators face a hard truth: not every kid is college material.

    By Todd Spivak

  • Miami New Times

    Love is No Contract

    A Florida man sues his girlfriend-for dumping him.

    By Isaiah Thompson

Kathleen Edwards

9 p.m. Tuesday, May 6. Blueberry Hill's Duck Room, 6504 Delmar Boulevard, University City

By Annie Zaleski

Published on April 30, 2008

The rural routes Kathleen Edwards explored on her 2003 debut Failer were drastically different than the dusty scenes explored by like-minded souls Lucinda Williams or Tift Merritt. Colored by the harsh winters and customs (read: hockey) of Edwards' native Ontario, Canada, her tales of spunky women, no-good men and broken relationships possessed a particularly intoxicating sense of isolation and resignation. That universal desolation has always resulted in Edwards' best work; "Copied Keys," from 2005's Back to Me, describes the sacrifices made when a person moves a great distance for love. Her gorgeous new album Asking for Flowers — like previous releases, a gentle amalgamation of pedal-steel twang, jaunty folk-pop and sharp lyrical ruminations — resonates most on its title track. Mellow Hammond organ and Neil Young-esque guitar hurricanes collide, mirroring the narrator's distress at the realities of a crumbling relationship.