Snail Mail Powerfully Pieces Herself Back Together on Valentine
Following a beloved debut, a breakup and treatment, Lindsey Jordan makes sense of the aftermath

Lindsey Jordan was only 18 in 2018 when her indie-blockbuster of a debut splashed an icy bucket of water in our tired faces. Lush would’ve been a stellar first chapter for any artist, but it was especially impressive considering Jordan’s age. She seemingly captured a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak and longing in Lush’s blistering 38 minutes, plus all the many flavors of the “genre” we call indie rock, to the delight of her peers and stodgy rock fans alike. And as with any artist who busts out of the woodwork with a shockingly great debut album, both Jordan and her listeners have known for almost four years that Lush would be a tough act to follow. The long-awaited follow-up, Valentine, is finally here, and it entirely delivers on Lush’s promise that Jordan isn’t just a teenage wonder—she’s an innovator who’s here to stay.
Of course, the original novelty of Lush is gone, as it should be. In its place is an artist who has taken her time to find her groove, even if that meant crashing and burning along the way. Valentine first took shape while Jordan was receiving treatment in Arizona, following what Waxahatchee’s Katie Crutchfield called “issues stemming from a young life colliding with sudden fame and success” in the bio accompanying Valentine’s press kit. Isolated from both her new normal in the spotlight and her instruments, Jordan started piecing together Valentine via pen and paper.
The end product, which was finalized earlier this year in North Carolina with Durham-based producing heavyweight Brad Cook, doesn’t explicitly list the “issues” Jordan was facing—rather, it attacks the universal misery we encounter when forging and dissolving relationships, again with the instincts and acumen of an artist many years Jordan’s senior. But it’s not like she was trying to wise up. She was just making sense of a startlingly bad breakup, a jumpstart to her music career and a stint in rehab, much of which occurred before she had even sipped her first legal beer.
“Referring to the process as the deepest level of catharsis and therapy I have ever experienced would be a huge understatement,” Jordan said of making the album.
That healing comes packaged in a blend of blistering rock and pensive singer/songwriter product that isn’t too far off from what we first heard of Jordan on Lush and even her Habit EP from 2016. The main difference on Valentine is Jordan’s newfound vocal confidence: She has perfected her singing voice to match her musical maturity, making Valentine more like Lush’s cool, assured older sister than simply a sequel.
The top-heavy tracklist is among Valentine’s only flaws. The triumphant title/opening track and excellent “Ben Franklin” are probably the most inventive songs on the album, so much so that everything else feels a bit like an afterthought. The latter has nothing to do with the bespectacled Founding Father, but the fuzzy, synth-powered song positions Jordan as a frantic moth drawn to the flame of the love she just can’t quit. She also quietly likens her time in treatment to the breakup at issue, singing, “Post rehab I’ve been feeling so small / I miss your attention / I wish I could call.”