ALBUM REVIEW: Faye Webster’s ‘Underdressed at the Symphony’
How I came into knowledge of the timid, somehow candlelit wonderment of Faye Webster’s music has become a total mystery to me now, but I do know that I leaned on her Car Therapy Sessions as soon as I found it as a child holds a handrail when they first climb a set of stairs. On the flight home from a very ill-fated attempt at a life change, both it and Tomberlin’s I Don’t Know Who Needs to Hear This lit my way to a safety I desperately needed at the time.
Webster’s orchestral re-imagining of a handful of her previous songs on Car Therapy Sessions presented a blissful bloom of her already highly individual, genre bending indie stylings into the glossy, grand and warm halls of classical fare in a way that was so committed, so brazen, transformative and singular it stunned me almost blind. This wasn’t akin to Laufey’s escapades of mid-century pop with a glistening string section behind her - that feels natural; like that’s where it really belongs. Webster was singing low-key yacht rock on cellos instead, but somehow it still made sense.
While there were only five tracks, they catapulted themselves into a deep space in my mind and heart, quickly along with the wider work of the Atlantan grown songwriter. Surrounded by the famous Atlantan hiphop and rap scene, Webster’s rich, melodic and serene soft rock escapades, topped off with her unique voice and sense of melody, polishes up a package that feels unexpected but inevitable, especially coming from the place she was in and her contemporaries.
Basically, few names in recent musical memory earned such softness from me so quickly as Faye Webster’s did. I saw an intelligent artist who evolved from the country and bluegrass roots showcased on her debut Run & Tell, released when she was just 16, into something clearly unique. As her voice matured and seemed to soften, adopting it’s signature ghostly quality, the instrumentation around her became the colour of golden blue, and her effectiveness at songwriting with those strengths in mind has only grown with each release.
The hardboiled Atlantan musician grew up in a highly musical family, and it seems to inform much of her trajectory, including R&B influences and pedal steel guitars centrally within confessional lyricism places what feels like lost genres inside a modern package, and the appeal is clearly working, as her audience has only grown in the past few years as she continues to refine her sound.
There’s a reason a shift of her music into that of a 24 piece orchestra (arranged by Trey Pollard) worked so well - there’s the richness underlaying her timid but confident personality and wispy delivery that stands up musically, often carries the songs all by themselves, and it’s an aspect of her writing relied upon more clearly on her new full length, Underdressed at the Symphony, perhaps moreso than anywhere before. Her lyric writing has taken a noticeable step into the background and the music around her is definitely drawing more of the attention.
It’s a return to her established sound, carrying on the intelligent restraint of her previous album I Know I’m Funny haha with her trademark so-subtle-you-don’t-always-notice-it’s-so-cutting, self-deprecating edge that should appeal to fans new and long-time. If by the time someone is halfway through album opener Thinking About You, they aren’t on board with Webster’s way of storytelling, when the six-and-a-half-minute track finally finishes, they should have gotten the point - Webster has a collection of songs here that are less about the moments of trying to move on from a less than awesome time in her life, and somehow feel like the actual moments themselves. This opening song in particular, about the contradictions of being stuck on an emotion or thought, evokes the very sound of it.
Close to an art exhibit of the interior of a mind dwelling on a moment, it makes use of one of Webster’s favourite and most striking songwriting qualities - repetition. She’ll often repeat musical moments or phrases for up to dozens of times, somehow slowly building new pictures with the same phrases as the musical performances around her subtly elevate. It’s an avenue she’s explored plenty before on tracks like Kind Of (from her previous album,) where the line being sung or repeated melodies end up becoming circular, almost never- ending, repeated so many times the vocal turns into an instrument itself, coaxing a listener past the singing along into just feeling the words on a deeper level. When used well, like in Thinking About You, it’s a bewitching and unexpected way to demonstrate feelings that, if described, might not actually come across as strongly. Saying “I can’t stop thinking about you,” perhaps isn’t as convincing as saying “I’m thinking about you,”thirteen, fourteen times in a row uninterrupted.
At other times, however, Webster’s repetition does feel like it gets in the way of more conclusive storytelling, or leaves particular tracks feeling a touch underdeveloped and loose. In tracks like He Loves Me Yeah!, I felt like I was waiting for the catch that never came, while the title of the track starts and ends nearly every stanza. There’s an endearing sloppiness to the performances and directness about the lyricism in the track that slowly but surely morphs into something slightly disconcerting on every loopy cry of “He loves me, yeah! My baby loves me, yeah, he loves me yeah!”, that ends right before things get downright unhinged. “I really like the way he holds me down. I pick his face out when he’s in the crowd.”
The clipped sentences and repeated phrases paint a somewhat incomplete picture that’s definitely compelling and points in a direction, but is perhaps just not all that interesting to listen to. I was left wanting a stronger impression than the song seemed to want to give, often remembering later that it wasn’t the point - the songs are the moments. They’re just playing out honestly in all their contradictions and incompleteness.
The same can be said, I think, for the album’s closer Tttttime (which feels like it’s just kind of there,) and five minute early single Lifetime, a sparse and meditative arrangement that definitely feels like the score to a sunset walk home. The song sees Webster repeat the phrase “in a lifetime” over and over in a lilting, double- tracked harmony that grows to mean multiple things when attached to different prefixes each time. At points it’s surprisingly devastating.
“When I said I mean it, I didn’t really mean it in a lifetime.”
While there’s much to the feeling it seems to explore of the way two people can grow so close over long periods of time that they know one another on levels beyond the spoken, it’s definitely a song I found more interesting if I just let it wash over me - there’s rich production and beautiful, measured performances, but the repeated vocal phrases being treated so dryly, mixed right up front, get in the way of the song’s strength of instrumentation without contributing much to it. It’s an experiment for Webster stepping out of her comfort zone into a more meditative place that I want to reward and see more of, but there seemed to be a resistance to going fully instrumental for the track, stripping vocals back further or taking the emphasis off her vocal in the mix, and I’m not it sure it allows the actual ideas of the song to come forth in the same way as other songs on the record.
Another early single, Lego Ring, features a childhood friend of Websters, Lil Yachty. It’s an unorthodox pairing, to be sure - Lil Yachty’s bombastic and eclectic stylings would naturally seem at odds with Webster’ laid back, generally vibe-first arrangements, but the two strike a really interesting middle ground which manages to feature some of the best aspects of both of their work. It’s the kind of pairing that definitely feels like two people who’ve known each other a long time. Guitar forward, but with an abrupt half time change for the chorus, the vocoded vocals help blend the two into a mix between aggression and ascendance.
“I want a Lego ring. I want it to hurt my finger… I know what I want, but you know I kinda need…”
The chorus trails off like an unfinished thought. To me, on top of the idea of Webster just wanting a cool Lego ring (which would be really rad, don’t lie), it seems to speak to the idea of unlikely pairings, or things not quite fitting right between two people, a common theme across a number of the songs.
“It’s a mood ring. It’ll pick for me…. You and me, always together like string beans. Your left hand up in every pic, cause your Lego ring is sick.”
A square ring that gives you street cred, but is (obviously) square and has those pointy corners? Yeah… I think the idea explains itself pretty well. Like the rest of the album, there doesn’t seem to be some grand, lyrical plan or message to take away, only honest moments which work to be reflections of feelings in all of their truthfulness and contradiction simultaneously.
Nowhere is that more evident than on album highlight But Not Kiss.
“I want to fall alseep in your arms,” lilts Webster, followed by a rushed “... but not kiss.”
The songs explodes in that moment into the kind of thundering piano thumps that are usually only reserved for Ben Folds, holding chords that pierce through a veil of sincerity with a marching purpose. Webster sings to the duality of relationships, wanting closeness and craving aloneness; desiring knowledge and intimacy but being contented with letting it pass.
“I wanna see you in my dreams but then forget.”
There’s something so convincing and truly beautiful about both sides of the coin in the song. Webster allows her voice to weave into an angelic falsetto. I particularly appreciated the way this song slowly added new elements to make sure it’s pattern of up-down dynamics still lifts and contains surprises each time. The unexpected entrance of strings works to make sure the bob and weave of the songs never gets old, and each time the instrumentation dies and returns to it’s barest bones feels natural and carries you through.
Other highlights included the barely ninety second trip of Feeling Good Today.
“I got paid yesterday, I’ll probably buy something dumb because I am pretty childish.”
It got a laugh, for sure.
The song isn’t playing with as many pieces as others, but Webster’s choice to vocode the vocals creates a neat little pair in the middle of the tracklist of it and Lego Ring, and helps this small moment act as something of an interlude or bridging point between what feels like the album’s two halves. Feeling Good Today does feel honest and low-key - unremarkable, even, but that’s what makes it a track that feels essential to the order, especially with a few songs playing with involved instrumentation and longer runtimes. In stark contrast in a mood sense is Wanna Quit All The Time, which for me by itself feels like it segments this album from Webster’s prior work in a subtle but important way - while much of her prior work could feel like a quiet girl who was amongst company, Wanna Quite All The Time gives the album a sense of solitude. There’s a depth to the mood, as if she’s out of alignment with her previous surroundings, and it speaks early in the album to the circumstances in which she wrote it, according to her - spontaneously visiting the Atlanta Symphony just to escape for a moment and enjoying how at odds she would have been with the dressed up fanfare of such an event.
“I think I’ll figure it out.”
The salsa twist within Wanna Quit All The Time, particularly in it’s reprise, helps it become one of the most successful emotional transportations on the album. With echoes of Andy Shauf, Webster’s detached resignation to her perseverance is buttered on top of one of the most vibrant instrumentals of the entire record. Congas and pedal steel is allowed to take up the space Webster’s refrains leave them - a mix of elements that really stands out on the tracklist. If anything, I wish it had gone on longer.
Much like the vast majority of the record, the mix on Wanna Quit is immaculate - while the soft rock influences run deep, the bigger, modern low end helps bring the tracks out of feeling like a pastiche of a lost recording era. There’s a great deal of balance between all the full-bodied tones on display and Webster’s vocal, which helps it feel comfortable and well rounded, which for an album as coyly playful is important. eBay Purchase History has a similar playful flair. It’s a song I picture as a little toy robot wobbling around a sandpit, for some reason. Like Lego Ring, it seems to find Webster seeking comfort in familiarity and possessions.
The albums title track, Underdressed At the Symphony, is undoubtedly the album’s most grand, a penultimate and slightly louder, lurching romper that feels both like the album’s highest and lowest point emotionally.
“I’m depriving myself of happiness; something I’m really good at. I wanna see you again. See - this is why I’m confusing.”
The vocal melody is addictive and inspirational, weaving a clearer line for a listener to the album’s loose theme of hiding or escaping after (probably) a breakup, but being unable to unlink one’s internal thoughts from the external. It feels like these are emotions that really haven’t actually been sorted out yet, and there’s a realness to it that’s refreshing amidst the constant evasion on many other tracks. Trying to hide in the symphony but still thinking about a person who you’re no longer in contact with - it feels like the album finally, for a moment, admitting to what’s bothering it without hiding itself.
Thematically the album (probably thanks to the repetition dominating several tracks and what I feel is a weaker closing track) leaves a less concrete feeling in the wake of a listening than some of Webster’s previous work. That is perhaps by design, but for listeners seeking a more relatable album in which they may hear themselves, I think Underdressed at the Symphony is a somewhat more internal album for Webster herself.
There’s certainly nothing wrong with that given that it sits within a growing discography - where there’s plenty of room for different albums to speak to different emotional states.
Like that one time you actually had a fairly deep conversation with the cool person at a party, which never repeated itself, was never spoken about again, and you might even question whether or not it was from a dream, Underdressed at the Symphony offers a glimpse into a world you can never see in sharp detail, but what glimmers you do see are rich and intriguing and made me want a lot more. It’s of benefit that Webster has such a strong catalog behind her already for new listeners to venture back to if they like the glimpses they find here. She doesn’t appear to be stopping anytime soon either.
I look forward to where this album might sit in a few years time in the growing career of a musician who’s routinely proven that they’re all in on experimentation, evolution and risk taking with their already unique sound - it’s something that’s all too rare in alternative genres at the moment, where trends and sticking to what’s known can unfortunately dominate. I find this album a little cold at times and a little too guarded in others to really satisfy, but in just as many other spots offers a guiding hand to step into reconstructions of delicate, everyday moments that a lesser songwriter would likely have passed over.
Underdressed at the Symphony is now available on CD, cassette, black vinyl and “Faye Blue” vinyl HERE.
A limited edition Blue & White Bullseye vinyl will be available via www.fayewebster.com
Underdressed at the Symphony:
Thinking About You
Wanna Quit All the Time
He Loves Me Yeah!
ebay Purchase History
Underdressed at the Symphony
Tttttime