If the "It's" in the title of this album refers to relationships and their diverse possible outcomes (which even a cursory listen will reveal to be the case), then Edith Frost is a perennial loser-- the dice go cold in her hands; she loses a turn; she goes directly to jail. It's difficult to unearth a song here that doesn't find Frost in dire romantic straits-- not just heartbroken, but plainly pathetic, unabashedly needy. One waits, in vain, for some sort of inner strength or declaration of independence to emerge; instead, personal dignity is sacrificed time and again to the ghost of romantic love.
It's a Game, then, is a country-folk tribute to co-dependency, one lacking the acerbic wit, unexpected joy, and newfound resolve that elevate such music beyond the maudlin. Instead, it's track after track of self-effacement and emotional panhandling, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there's a lot more to life than waiting on a man to let you be happy. The pretty confidence of the music-- Frost has a rich voice and a knack for lilting, breathy acoustica reminiscent of Leslie Feist-- is constantly at odds with the ugly insecurity of the lyrics.
Here's Frost on the plinking "Emergency", cajoling a restless lover instead of admitting he's a right bastard and moving on: "You've got so much time for that other woman/ I don't know why you won't spend your time with me." Maybe it's because, as she sings on the saddle-sore ballad "A Mirage", "As the last boy I loved told me the day we said goodbye/ My heart is too sentimental and his love he could only deny." And "What's the Use", while musically spry, is rife with defeated longing: "What's the use in trying again when you're only going to break my heart/ Where did I go wrong in my thinking you'd fall in love with a girl like me?"
God. Has Frost ever heard of self-fulfilling prophecy? Her self-degradation is, at best, endearing in spurts, but becomes really frustrating over the course of It's a Game. The smoldering "My Lover Won't Call" speaks for itself; "Larger than Life" shamelessly wheedles "Please keep calling me;" "Just a Friend" oozes with unattractive desperation: "Won't you let me get closer/ Just tell me what I should say/ I don't want it to be over / I don't want this thing to end." By the time it's all said and done, you sort of want to shake her by the shoulders; turn her on to "Since U Been Gone"; something.
