Despite the languid pace and unbreakable chill of her music, Faye Webster seems to have a hard time taking it easy. The Atlanta songwriter often uses her cozy surroundings—gentle washes of pedal steel, piano, and synth pads—like the couch in a therapist’s office: a temporary spot to recline and spiral. In that sense, her latest song “Cheers” feels like a breakthrough: The arrangement is crystalline and cool as always, but it builds toward something uncharacteristically heavy—an increase in momentum dramatized by a video starring a crew of bikers doing tricks.

While a less refined songwriter might use this grungy turn as a runway for catharsis, Webster wanders through a series of familiar, unglamorous anxieties: Will my brother get married before me? Will it be awkward when my dad eventually hears my partner’s music? (“Cuz you’re always cussing,” she explains.) It’s funny—as she admits in the winking album title—but it also feels newly earnest, maybe even romantic. From an artist whose delivery can recall a lounge singer cracking dark jokes while the band tunes up, she sings each chorus (“And let’s cheers to you/And let’s cheers to me”) with undeniable intensity, wrapping her words around the serpentine guitar riff. She sounds like she means it.