Atlanta Millionaires Club - Faye Webster
Atlanta Millionaires Club - Faye Webster
24 May 2019 - Secretly Canadian
Refusing to make your bed, staring at walls, avoiding all outings. This isn’t the melodramatic heartbreak from the movies. Faye Webster’s third LP walks us through what losing love is like for the rest of us. Through the tepid wailing of guitars and orchestral arrangements, Webster’s folk-pop journey through confronting isolation feels like a walk we take to clear our minds. Except, things are often not clearer. Though the shades change, the days are still gray. Atlanta Millionaires Club is quotidian heartache after the fact.
Room Temperature
We wake up to another day where we must deal with the facts: he/she is gone. And yet, the only people we can feel sorry for is ourselves. Webster is tired of this feeling that has dragged so long, even her “tears have gone room temperature.” It’s a loss of motivation that we feel when inspired by sharing love with another. Why bother to make your bed? Why change our clothes? Webster isn’t interested in impressing anyone. And yet, this song rides a mellow pedal steel wave with a staccato from the keys that makes this feel like some paradise. Indeed, paradise is out there— “I should get out more.”
Right Side of My Neck
The opening guitar line falls from the previous song’s glow into a mournful realization. Thoughts on this person will linger. Webster focuses on the details from their last encounter. Moments bounce in her head through the subtleties that may or may not actually be there. While the pedal steel is still golden like a sunset, the tone shifts toward a somber direction. The bass line rumbles through its fixed pattern as Webster recalls the familiar scent of her previous lover. It’s as if her thoughts are working to recreate that which is no longer there. Is she repeating it to convince herself that it will remain? “Still smells like you” is in present tense, after all.
Hurts Me Too
In a slower, country-like rhythm, Webster returns to her own reflection. The first verse’s writing returns to first-person, with Webster actively confronting the unsettling thoughts. Her chorus wrangles the instrumentation up a hill where she can be honest with herself. “I am done changing words/just so my songs sound prettier” is a refusal to mask her difficulty in handling the pain. It hurts, and it’s fair to let that free. The second verse is one of the most powerful of the album. “When I thought my eyes were closed/but they were open the whole time/it was just too dark to know” isn’t just the physical sensation. It’s the overthinking, asking questions, grasping for answers. “[when] my dad cries in front of me? Do I just close my eyes and/pretend like I didn’t see?” is difficult for both parties. Attempting to be that comforting presence while handling your own pain is an unstable duty. We can see a father’s pride in hiding his emotions to appear strong. Webster notices and ponders saving him that shame by looking away. Does she try to avoid appearing the same way as her father? In her sympathy, is she thinking about her outward appearance?
Pigeon
The keyboard pushes us to look out the window. The sun managed to rise again; life is moving with or without us. Webster wakes up, rubs her eyes and comes to think, “my time’s been wasted/been thinking of him.” The lines “I used to make my bed/but now I see no point in it” are echoed in several spots across the album, but they best exemplify Webster’s helplessness in this context. Why bother with these trivial tasks? “Don’t know what to do/I have nothing to do/There’s nowhere to go” isn’t necessarily true, but it’s how we feel after a heavy loss. And even when there’s nothing we can do to reach out, Webster still attempts to send a pigeon with a note. How long will it take to get there? Will he even read it? The pedal steel wails along with these thoughts, but the keyboard riffs between lines tease at the triviality of those gestures.
Jonny
This song keeps the listener sitting in bed. We overthink, stare, and overthink again. It’s a steady roll of helpless thoughts ferried along by the cadence of Webster’s singing and a weighted bass line. A brass section joins, accenting each line. Webster desperately realizes that although “this wasn’t ‘posed to be a love song/…I guess it is now.” The same questions continue to roll around in Webster’s head. Repetition establishes the inability to think about anything else, despite a lingering saxophone solo trying to pull us away.
Kingston
When Webster thinks about the certainties, she regains control of her thoughts. It’s her voice alone that guides the instrumentation into what she knows. Every beat is set in place as if it’s mapped. That’s because this song reflects on well-established memories. Webster knows how she fell in love; she recalls the emotions of the early moments in vivid detail. This strong recall is reflected in each snare hit, each strum so perfectly calculated. These are the emotions Faye Webster knows with absolute certainty. And yet, the chorus echoes “baby tell me where you want to go/baby tell me what you want to know.” Uncertainty once more. As much as Webster wants to ground herself in the certain things, the loss still causes her to trail off into a void.
Come to Atlanta
The theme of certainty returns here. Beats are heavier, the bass line has direction, and Webster’s singing is forward. She conducts the brass’s instrumental breaks before telling her previous lover the things she’s certain of: “I want my time back with you/I only want that with you.” The chorus features a violin (or cello?) and flute soli, with their dainty voices accenting the questions we want to ask our ex. Even when she returns to questioning him, her last line is declarative: “I want to see you here in Atlanta.”
What Used to Be Mine
After letting that off your chest, go ahead and take a deep breath. Let a sigh out. Pedal steel returns us from a confident high back to missing what’s gone. Lines like “I miss your voice, you’re the only one with it” and “I try not to go where I first met you” are particularly striking. Even in the familiar sounds and sights of the city, Webster sees empty spaces once occupied by her past. The pedal steel lulls us into silence, almost as if Webster falls asleep to her broken heart.
Flowers (ft. Father)
Led by a falling synthesizer riff, Webster falls into a dreamscape of unanswered questions. “What do you prefer?/I don’t have that much to offer” is gentle, but still yearning for some understanding. Father’s voice matches the softness of Webster’s as he joins her in conversation. His lyrics play foil to Webster—theirs is nothing for her to offer. In fact, Father never refers to the subject until the last line. Even while Webster’s thoughts are all over her past lover, he is distracted and even distraught by anything else around him. There is no room for her.
Jonny (Reprise)
“Jonny’s” brass arrangement gently opens the door to Webster’s final thoughts. She is not actually having a conversation with him, instead creating one from the blank space he’s left. And in her monologue, she lands at a difficult conclusion. “I was ready…for that long look that never ends/but now I don’t know what to do.” Webster visualizes the entire experience as a song, but even songs must end. Only we can give ourselves closure. Though he left first, Webster gives herself this closure when it’s finally her voice saying “goodbye, Jonny.”