Kathleen Edwards: From Failer to Voyageur

She's Canadian – from Ottawa, actually – and proud of it. She's a Cancer with curly red hair and beautiful teeth. She studied classical violin. Nowadays, though, she mostly writes songs and sings and plays guitar. 

Her first album, Failer (2003), created a critical stir, mixing country, rock and pop sounds, whip-smart lyrics and lilting vocals that channeled melancholy, longing and a free-floating pissed-off attitude. Two more albums, Back To Me (2005) and Asking for Flowers (2008), followed in the same vein but tracked a maturing musical sensibility.

Edwards' latest album, Voyageur, was produced with the help of her current boyfriend, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver. Through a more varied sonic palette, it records the dissolution of her marriage in poignantly pointed songs, such as "Change the Sheets" and "House Full of Empty Rooms," while struggling through some spiritual and artistic stuff.

On the chorus of the closing track, "Record," she intones, "Hang me up on your cross. For the record, I only wanted to sing songs." But far from some kind of accidental martyr, Edwards can be deeply introspective, profane and kooky – sometimes in the same sentence.

Recently, during a call from her parents' farm, where she was hanging out with Vernon, Edwards talked about her new album, Lady Gaga, the influence of geography and sex, and the crazy cast of cats that appear on her blog and Twitter feed: kittythefool.

I'm sure you have no recollection of this, but my first introduction to you was on the phone while you were out traveling with Richard Buckner. I remember him saying you had beautiful teeth.

Those were some crazy days. Actually, I remember my Atlanta show with Richard Buckner, because he took me down the street to some place where I had fried green tomatoes for the first time. But he's the one with the great teeth. I was taken aback by how lovely his teeth were.

I think the first time I saw you live was at the Americana Music Awards, I'm going to say in 2003, when you had nominations for album of the year and artist of the year. That was a pretty heady time, I imagine. Of course, that begs the inevitable question: Was the "Americana" label sort of a trap?

I don't think of it as a trap, because I've had so many people be so kind and supportive of me from that group of people over the years. But I just think it got a little stale. Anyone who's a songwriter nowadays, and has any inclination toward certain songwriting heroes, from John Prine to Neil Young, is labeled Americana. Why don't you just call it bland? Everything has been blanched in that word.