- Music
- 27 Mar 26
Album Review: Snail Mail, Ricochet
Gen Z indie over-achiever strikes gold. 8/10
Snail Mail’s Lindsey Jordan has come out of her shell across three increasingly accomplished albums, culminating in her fantastic new record, Ricochet. Electric, eclectic and euphoric, it’s a searing salvo of old-school indie rock upholstered with an affecting thread of Gen Z melancholy – an LP that moshes and wipes away a tear at the same time.
Jordan has been through a lot since she spoke to Hot Press a mere (gulp) five years ago from her loft in New York. She has moved to the countryside (much of Ricochet was written in her new abode in North Carolina), starred in the A24 queer retro fantasy I Saw The TV Glow, and has lately been talking about the crisis she was plunged into after watching a movie by existential indie director Charlie Kaufman.
It isn’t the first time she has had to be mindful of her mental health. Prior to 2021’s Valentine, she spent some time in rehab – seeking treatment for “some gnarly s***” that, she has since clarified, had nothing at all to do with drugs or alcohol.
This is not a surprise given that she came across as cheerily squeaky clean when chattering to Hot Press, a mood she maintains on a fantastic album that begins with the post-grunge crunch of ‘Tractor Beam’ and the shoegaze-adjacent ‘My Maker’.
The sense of an artist hitting their late twenties and grappling with big questions is evoked on the mumblecore-indie of ‘Light On Our Feet’ (“Another year getting older… getting over you”). But if wearier, wiser, and a bit sadder, Jordan (26) still has a few barbs up her sleeve – as demonstrated by the starchy closer ‘Reverie’...
A decade ago, Jordan was heralded as a leading light in a new generation of (largely female) alternative songwriters tapping into the quiet/loud/quiet vibes of the indie-schmindie 1990s. Those artists have variously gone on to bigger, better, and weirder things or vanished without a trace.
Snail Mail remains the true exemplar of the indie spirit, however, and Ricochet captures an artist bouncing back – and not in the Alan Partridge sense – to deliver her most accomplished collection to date.
8/10
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