Kathleen Edwards’ 2020 comeback was one of the bright spots in the COVID era. The widely acclaimed Total Freedom was the Ottawa native’s first album in eight years, a period that saw Edwards set aside the hectic life of a touring singer/songwriter to open a coffee shop in her hometown. Obviously revitalized by her time away, she seized the opportunity to rethink her sound, zeroing in on a resonant Triple A-friendly safe zone that carried that LP through its emotional highs and lows and buoyed even its most reflective and solitary moments.
The new Billionaire (Dualtone) is a different sort of declaration of independence. It’s been billed as a return to the edgier confessional fare of her 2002 debut, Failer. But that implies some sort of retread—and Edwards’ sixth studio album is nothing of the sort. Now living in St. Petersburg, Fla., she continues her midlife renaissance with a collection of songs rich in narrative detail, sonic depth and a certain sun-kissed candor. And she has plenty of help from an Americana dream squad that includes co-producers Jason Isbell and Gena Johnson; Anna Butterss and Annie Clements on bass; Isbell’s drummer, Chad Gamble; keyboardist Jen Gunderman; and sisters Shelby Lynne and Allison Moorer on backing vocals.
MAGNET’s Hobart Rowland caught up with Edwards just a few days before her tour kickoff in Toronto.
How are you adjusting to life as a Floridian?
I do really love it—and to be fair, I’m in Canada right now and it’s almost the same temperature here right now. In Ontario, the heat sort of lifts and you feel a couple of degrees cooler at night. In Florida, it doesn’t. But I genuinely love it.
And you say as much on “FLA,” from the new album.
When I say I’ve moved to Florida, a lot of people turn up their noses in a sort of judgmental way with a hint of righteousness. I think, “I don’t think you really know what it’s like here. You just have a perception of what people are like.” Like calling people rednecks. I’m there because my husband and I decided we were going to make a change, and I’m already able to live in the U.S. because of my visa. We decided to pick up and try something new. We went to St. Petersburg in 2021, and we just fell in love with the town. I mean … I’d been to Florida before. But there’s something incredibly new about the way the light looks, the types of trees and the vegetation. When it’s really hot in the summer, people slow down. There’s a Southern slowness that I like. I find people to be curious—and I find that it sets off my curiosity … to where I don’t have to be masking my more eccentric approach to the world. I’m a traveling musician, which isn’t really normal. Florida is still sort of ground zero for the original hippie. I’m constantly finding myself engaging with people because they’re so open and prepared to just have conversations.
I wrote all the songs in Florida, so there was sort of a renewed optimism at times. “Need A Ride” is this sort of hurricane rock ’n’ roll song. And even though I wrote “Little Red Ranger” about somebody else I know, half of it is about me starting new somewhere else.
You might get some blowback from Maple Leafs fans when you play “Little Red Ranger” in Toronto on Friday.
[Laughs] I wrote that song right after seeing Chris Stapleton play in Tampa. He’s just so relaxed and cool and effortless. I wanted to have songs on this record that, even though I spent time crafting them, feel effortless at the end. I saw myself standing onstage in the way I saw Chris Stapleton onstage—but I was at (Toronto’s) Massey Hall singing, “The Leafs still suck at playoff time.” I felt like, if I could do that in my lifetime, I’d be very happy.
With Total Freedom, you had the advantage of surprise after being away from music for so long. Was there a bit of an, “OK, what’s next?” feeling in the lead-up to Billionaire?
There was a long period around my last release when I was constantly beating a dead horse: “Is this anything like what I’ve done before? Am I changing? Is anything interesting?” Total Freedom was my foray back into it—and I barely squeaked out enough songs for a record. When I started writing again in 2023, I stopped playing to just sit still and write—and I ended up writing almost 20 songs, so I have another record ready to go. It showed that I was really on the other side of my coffeeshop life. Once I got that monkey off my back, I was really excited to write again.
With this new record, I was like, “Nothing is a waste of time. All songs are on the table. Every idea is a good idea, because even if it doesn’t end up on the record, it’s something worth trying.” That really helped me to not overthink certain songs—like “Save Your Soul.” It’s a pretty, you know … It’s a three-chord rock ’n’ roll song. I’m not reinventing the wheel.
It’s also catchy as hell.
I love playing it, and you want to get onstage and play songs that are fun to play. Not every song has to be the giant soul-bearer. I’ve done that, and the journey almost fucking killed me. I was trying to stay true to the art and be present in those songs. And it was like, “Wow, I’m fucking depressed.”
How did Jason Isbell and Gena Johnson figure into all of this?
I’d been writing songs for a year, and I was searching for someone. Jason just by chance said, “Well, what are you doing with your next record?” And I was like, “Actually, I’m looking for a producer, and I’d love some suggestions.” Then he went, “Maybe I would do it.” Later his manager sent me an email saying, “Let’s book this in the calendar.” When I read it, I openly wept, because it’s hard to find people to help elevate you. And Jason, you know, is untouchable. I would’ve never expected him to make that offer—and when he did, I was just floored.
I didn’t know Jason very well. I didn’t know how he made records. But what I do know now is that he doesn’t have a lot of time to waste, and he’s such an impeccable player that he doesn’t need to fart around with 10 takes and three hours of redoing a tone. He gets it in one pass, and it’s so cool to see him play your songs—and Gena is such a meticulous engineer. I felt like all I had to do was show up and play the songs.
But my neurotic, crafty, is-this-good-enough brain would still be like, “Is that it? Aren’t we going to add more to this?” He really cut to the chase a lot—and I realized he was right. I was overthinking it. I mean, I’m really happy with Total Freedom. But was there some overthinking on the last record? For sure—tons, tons. On this one, we were at (Nashville’s) Sound Emporium Studios for seven days. Then we were back there for five days, and it was done.
Did that worry you?
It terrified me. I’m very insecure about what I sound like and how I play. I always think it could be better. I’m my own worst critic, and the raw energy of just playing something a few times really is good for me. I was lucky I had Gena and Jason there to help me see that.
See Kathleen Edwards live.
