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Newcomer Kathleen Edwards makes a startling debut with Failer, which suggests an electric fusion of Whiskeytown's ringing guitars, Lucinda Williams's breathy, melancholy delivery, and fellow Canadian Neil Young's raspy, earthy tone. These sources ably serve Edwards's vivid narratives, which are given added resonance by the disc's atmospheric, film noirlike arrangements. If Failer's ambience is somewhat sinister, however, it's only amplified by the subject matter: The hard-driving "Six O'Clock News" finds the narrator pleading with her deranged companion, by whom she's pregnant, to give up his standoff with the police; typical of these songs, though, he winds up "lying dead on the street," leaving his paramour to lament, "And I can't feel my broken heart." The gentle, acoustic-driven folk-rock of "Hockey Skates" frames a tale of terminal frustration over a self-absorbed boyfriend ("Do you wish your nose was longer/So you'd have an excuse not to see past it"), its choruses rising ominously on a rush of strings. "Westby" finds a furious Edwards almost screaming invective, à la Ani DiFranco, at an older, married lover, her anger mirrored by a tangle of acoustic and electric guitars. The foreboding string arrangements and subdued shuffle of "National Steel" lend a Beatlesque grandeur to an elliptical recounting of emotional disconnects. There's nothing easy about these songs -- Edwards is as hard on herself as she is on others -- and there's nothing predictable about the music supporting the stories. Edwards takes her cue from the Beat writers, finding humanity not in good deeds but in extreme behavior propelled by vulnerability, irrationality, and the desires of the flesh. That's a pretty good place to start. David McGee, Barnes & Noble