Atlanta Millionaires Club
Atlanta Millionaires Club is in Faye Webster’s feelings, and that’s the way she likes it. The new record from the 21-year-old Atlanta-native opens with a sighing, unflinchingly honest admission that, in Webster’s hands, almost sounds breezy: “Looks like I’ve been crying again, over the same thing.”
Pulling from a familial lineage of folk storytelling and time spent in Atlanta’s hip-hop scene, Webster’s work is a study of duality, weaving through her own introversion and heartbreak; it’s an idiosyncratic sadness punctuated by fleeting observations and an unexpected, sly sense of humor. Across Atlanta Millionaires Club, Webster’s feather-light vocals unfurl like a sigh, her voice and slinking hues of sleepy R&B acting as sonic through-lines on an album stitched together by intimate songwriting about lonesomeness.
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Atlanta Millionaires Club is in Faye Webster’s feelings, and that’s the way she likes it. The new record from the 21-year-old Atlanta-native opens with a sighing, unflinchingly honest admission that, in Webster’s hands, almost sounds breezy: “Looks like I’ve been crying again, over the same thing.”
Pulling from a familial lineage of folk storytelling and time spent in Atlanta’s hip-hop scene, Webster’s work is a study of duality, weaving through her own introversion and heartbreak; it’s an idiosyncratic sadness punctuated by fleeting observations and an unexpected, sly sense of humor. Across Atlanta Millionaires Club, Webster’s feather-light vocals unfurl like a sigh, her voice and slinking hues of sleepy R&B acting as sonic through-lines on an album stitched together by intimate songwriting about lonesomeness.
