No one makes social anxiety sound chiller than Faye Webster. On her third record, Atlanta Millionaires Club, Webster continues where she left off with her 2017 self-titled release, easing us into her brand of hazy, twangy pop with a nod to the music she loves — hip-hop. Citing influences like Aaliyah and rappers from her hometown of Atlanta, Webster is one of those rare artists that can merge genres, sounds, and styles seamlessly and organically. In other words, it isn’t weird to sing a country song like it’s a smooth R&B jam when Webster does it.
But more than ever before, Webster brings us inward on Atlanta Millionaires Club, sharing all of her introvert-centric tics and daydreams as though we were a page in her diary. There’s that same sharp self-awareness to her songwriting, but with more vulnerability. On “Jonny,” she expresses wariness toward herself for writing another love song. Still, despite her swooning, she comes back around to that feeling of isolation, being alone with her dog, the best friend who doesn’t even know her name. On the slow swagger “Room Temperature,” she thinks to herself over and over, “I should get out more.” And on the very Aaliyah-esque “Pigeon,” she lays awake in the dark, teetering on the verge of depression, feeling useless in her heartbreak.
Heartbreak pulsates quietly through Atlanta Millionaires Club. Sometimes it’s there in an empowered reclaiming of her time, like in the grooving “Come to Atlanta,” and sometimes in a vivid, detailed memory she resents, like with the swingy earworm “Right Side of My Neck.” The country sound comes through more prominently on “What Used to Be,” a particularly melancholy tune with what is perhaps the album’s best steel guitar showing. Webster’s soft-focus vocals emerge like a sweet sigh and a shrug. “Oh well,” she seems to say. And we love her for this because in so many ways, she is all of us: stuck somewhere between unapologetic self-acceptance and raging neuroses. It just depends on the moment, on the song.