100 flickering candles placed delicately in a semi-circle beneath twin chandeliers hung low from 20 foot ceilings… a thin layer of fine powder disturbed by a pair of heeled boots and two legs of a Wurlitzer dragged from the doorway leading out to Greenpoint… a single light burns a singer’s profile at the center of this scene into clear focus.
Eddi Front writes songs in black, white and red. They are remembrances of love suddenly won and slowly lost. She is present in all of them, at once the subject and the observer in a moment. Her voice, gently doubled by a sub-zero echo chamber, stands clear and confident above the expert keys, their warmth a comfortable seat as the singer recounts her tribulations.
Here is one of those songs, an introduction to the voice that may guide you down some lost highway, though more likely, bewitch your attention long enough to send you hurtling over the guard rail.