Snail Mail – Ricochet
I don’t think there has been an album like Snail Mail’s third, Ricochet, that I have
been simultaneously anticipating and afraid to listen to. The name of the
experimental alt-rock group Snail Mail is often erroneously attributed as the
professional synonym for their lead vocalist and songwriter, Lindsey Jordan, despite
her insistence to the contrary. Snail Mail’s previous album, 2021’s Valentine, is one
of my favourite albums of the decade, so I have been eagerly awaiting its follow-up.
When it finally dropped at the end of March, it took me a few weeks to build up the
courage to actually listen to it. Compared to Valentine, which was an epic
documentation of a break-up with melodramatic allusions to the Bible, Ricochet was
built on an instrumental foundation, with Lindsey, over the years, gradually adding
lyrics from her thoughts and poetry after finalising an album’s worth of music. In the
press, Lindsey cites a multitude of inspirations for her new material, from arthouse
films like Synecdoche, New York and Mysterious Skin, poetry, and an extensive
range of music, compiled and arranged to examine her thanatophobia and religious
trauma. It’s hard, therefore, to fully note all the references on the record. Are the
repeating lick on opener “Tractor Beam” reminding me of The President of the USA’s
“Peaches,” or “Cruise” reminding me of Avril Lavigne’s “I’m With You”, intentional, or
just my brain making those associations? I can’t confidently say either way. I would
describe Ricochet like this: Imagine a 2D box. It is within the four lines of the box
where the music, mainly comprising atmospherically floaty soundscapes, exists,
whilst the unexplored empty centre is the actual continuity of the record. Valentine
had some songs which hinted at this direction (such as “Headlock,” “c. et al.,” and
“Mia”), but, ever-expanding as an artist, Ricochet displays a bold new move in
Lindsey’s musical journey, and it is a trip that I feel personally connected to, having
shared a lot of the anxieties explored.