
A sparse, fiddle-laced collection of southern folk. These five tracks capture the quiet, unvarnished beginnings of a singular voice in indie Americana.
It's Faye Webster before the drum machines, just a girl and a fiddle in a quiet room.
A quiet, dusty loneliness that feels like a warm blanket on a cold floor.
The production is pushed notably harder into stripped back than this artist usually allows.
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