Monday, Nov. 29; Launchpad (21 and over, 9 p.m.): I might as well just say it: Despite all her formidable indie rock cred—associations with Archer Prewitt, Mark Greenberg, Wilco drummer Glenn Kotche and others, along with legendary Chicagoland grump Steve Albini, who produced her latest album—Edith Frost will always be one of my favorite country singers. Not milquetoast, bullshit noncountry Shania Twain country; the kind of country that sits on your eyelids and tells you true-life tales of sadness, heartbreak and the chronic, mild discontent that made mountains out of men like Nick Drake, Gram Parsons and Tim Buckley.
Frost's brand of alt.country, country-inflected folk, y'allternative or whatever you care to call it is melancholy and filled with razor-sharp imagery. Her latest creation, Wonder Wonder (Drag City) is the culmination so far of every heart wrenching song she's ever written—soft and gentle, but deadly gorgeous. Tonight, you're in for that rare tragic romance you'll never want to forget.