Kathleen Edwards went from running a coffee shop to exploring her freedom and releasing a basic covers EP. That doesn’t sound like a path to becoming a billionaire, yet here we are. Or at least her new release is named Billionaire, an effective title that’s undermined by nearly every cut on it. On her second full album since that coffee break, the Americana artist sounds as confident as ever, with a clear vision of what matters and always distinctive ways to talk about it.
The record opens with the single and highlight, “Save Your Soul”. The folk-rock track immediately suggests the misdirection of the album’s title. Edwards sings with casual directness: “Line your pockets with gold / Who’s going to save your soul / When your money’s no good?” Billionaire is essentially about figuring out what matters, and Edwards clearly knows it’s not money. Her target remains unspecified, but any number of stand-ins work, and the song serves as an evergreen critique of the modern world. It’s within this context that the album works.
The gentle title song more explicitly redefines the terms of the game. Edwards has explained that the track honors someone she lost too young. The singer looks back and considers the small details about this person’s life, discovering, “If this feeling were currency / I would be a billionaire.” Edwards wants to explore this approach to life, the idea that we can be rich in emotion and experience rather than simply in money.
It makes sense then that (unlike internet jokes would suggest), she can fall in love with Florida in the upbeat “FLA”. She finds something new and carefully observes the differences in the area – the Spanish moss, the intense lightning – and merges them with personal memories, like receiving postcards and singing Tom Petty songs. “FLA” doesn’t celebrate beach life, but instead focuses on the more profound experiences you can have if you’re attentive to your place.
Billionaire does have one significant misstep. “Need a Ride” plods along for over six minutes, with dry vocals on a monotonous melody. The music has its own issues, but the content doesn’t align with the album. Edwards sings about all the stuff that “people get worked up about”, that they should really let go, but it becomes a mix of politics and a rejection of empathy. Edwards sounds embattled against everyone and no one, and never establishes a center, except that people shouldn’t… care? It’s a strange song, made worse by dull music, and its inclusion on Billionaire makes little sense given the thoughtful warmth that permeates most of the record (including the soft “Little Pink Door” that follows).
Much of that warmth gains support from the production, done by Jason Isbell (who also plays throughout the album) and Gena Johnson, whose engineering work with Brandi Carlile feels like a natural predecessor to the production on Billionaire. The songs sound clean and precise without sacrificing that lived-in feeling. The attention to every detail avoids fussiness and helps create immediacy, letting Edwards herself come through.
“Little Red Ranger” works perfectly with this sound. A trio of Edwards (acoustic guitar), Isbell (electric guitar), and Jen Gunderman (piano) recorded it in one take, allowing plenty of space. Edwards sings of watching a boy move from Ontario to Los Angeles to chase his dreams, and the melody and delivery convey the emotion without becoming maudlin (and it helps that she makes fun of the Leafs).
That mix of melody, insight, and the personal captures the quintessence of Edwards at her best. She’s worked slowly over the years – this is just her sixth album, mainly due to that lengthy hiatus – but she’s always used the time to observe carefully. This latest record is marked by both wisdom and heart, as well as the strong, varied Americana she has always excelled at creating.