Snail Mail weaponizes sapphic yearning on “Valentine”
Photo Courtesy of The Guardian
Lindsey Jordan of the indie rock project Snail Mail released her sophomore album, “Valentine,” on Friday, Nov. 5. The 10-track effort is just over half an hour long, but for what it lacks in length it certainly makes up for in lyrical depth and honesty. Listeners are taken on a journey through the stages of grief after any breakup: initial anger and denial, bargaining and eventual acceptance.
If Snail Mail’s 2018 debut “Lush” was a perfect representation of the boredom of being a teenager in the suburbs, “Valentine” is a just-as-fitting portrayal of the confusion of navigating the social conventions of early adulthood. Its title track starts off the album with a bang, combining bold guitar reminiscent of “Lush” with Jordan’s dramatic and desperate pleas to an ex-lover: “So why’d you wanna erase me, darling valentine? / You’ll always know where to find me when you change your mind.”
Lyrics throughout “Valentine” cement semi-pathetic devotion to a lost love as one of the album’s core themes. On “Forever (Sailing),” the song’s soaring back-and-forth movement is coupled with sentiments of grand obsession: “I’ll chase you from the city to the sky / And lose myself for you a thousand times.” Jordan flirts with death after ending a relationship on “Headlock” – “Thought I’d see her when I died / Filled the bath up with warm water / Nothing on the other side.” Perhaps the most poignantly pitiful line comes on “Automate,” in which Jordan declares to an ex that “I’m like your dog / Only I know you’ll be sweet if I stay.” Though heartbreaking, Jordan’s vulnerability on “Valentine” is admirable and makes the album more of a gem.
The album’s second single, “Ben Franklin,” is an introduction to Snail Mail’s new R&B-esque sound, a clear departure from the dominance of DIY guitar riffs on “Lush.” This song shows Jordan attempting to appear cocky and totally over a past relationship (“Got money, I don’t care about sex”), but she is definitely not: “Moved on, but nothing feels true / Sometimes I hate her just for not being you.”
One of the most relatable tracks on the album, “Ben Franklin” gives Jordan the space to begin revealing a bit about her struggles: “Post-rehab, I’ve been feeling so small.” She further alludes to her substance abuse issues on “Automate” – “One more drink ‘til / I can lay beside you.” And while using alcohol to cope with the pain of a breakup isn’t necessarily the healthiest choice, Jordan’s honesty will certainly resonate with listeners.
At its core, the sentiments presented on “Valentine” are outrageous, but they feel completely acceptable within the world constructed around the album. The grandeur and drama of Jordan’s lyrics is reflected in the overall aesthetic for the album art and the music videos for “Valentine” and “Ben Franklin.” The album cover features Jordan against a red background, wearing a frilly, over-the-top pink suit, and similar outfit choices are used in the “Valentine” music video, which is set during the Victorian era (think “Portrait of a Lady on Fire”) and features Jordan enacting revenge against her lover’s male suitor.
Jordan’s efforts to curate an entire universe in which “Valentine” exists stand in stark contrast to the youthful simplicity of “Lush” and show her growth as an artist. Her inclusion of different instruments and sounds throughout the album, such as the full orchestra on the moving ballad “Mia,” the solo cello on “Light Blue” and the stripped back acoustic guitar on the sweet “c. et al.,” serve to enhance the complexity of the emotions she conveys through her lyrics.
“Valentine” is the culmination of Snail Mail’s maturation from a teenage band (albeit a really, really good one) to a refined and fully formed musical project.
