Snail Mail – “Ricochet”

After spending the better part of a decade establishing herself as one of indie rock’s sharpest chroniclers of heartbreak, Snail Mail, the moniker for Lindsey Jordan’s solo project, takes a hard left turn on Ricochet. Where Lush and Valentine thrived on emotional intimacy and confessional songwriting, Jordan instead pivots toward fuzzier, heavier ‘90s alternative rock textures and existential dread. It’s an ambitious stylistic swing fueled in part by Jordan’s fixation on mortality after watching Synecdoche, New York, a film whose obsession with aging, decay and identity hangs over nearly every track here.

Production was handled by close friend Aron Kobayashi Ritch of Momma, who helps steer the album into a grittier and denser sonic direction. Jordan also dramatically altered her songwriting process, piecing together instrumental arrangements while touring before spending nearly a year writing lyrics for the songs all at once. The result is an album that feels far more compositionally driven than her previous work, prioritizing atmosphere and texture over immediate emotional connection.

The album’s strongest quality is how committed it is to this new identity. Thick distorted guitars, crunchy riffs and layered orchestration dominate the mix, replacing the cleaner emotional immediacy that previously defined Jordan’s music. There are moments where the sonic pivot genuinely excites, particularly when the heavier instrumentation collides with her melodic instincts.

“Tractorbeam” immediately announces the transformation. Built around a chunky, bouncing guitar riff reminiscent of “Peaches” by The Presidents of the United States of America, the opener balances abrasive alt-rock energy with surprisingly lush orchestral flourishes. It is one of the few songs on the album that fully capitalizes on the contrast between heaviness and melody, signaling a bold new direction even if the album struggles to sustain that momentum consistently.

Lyrically, Ricochet is consumed by existential dread, disassociation and self-destructive emotional habits. Jordan repeatedly frames herself as someone trapped inside cycles of rumination and emotional paralysis, unable to stop fixating on mortality or escape her own worst tendencies. It is a far more abstract and conceptual record than her earlier material, often prioritizing emotional atmosphere over direct narrative storytelling.

“Agony Freak” is perhaps the album’s most effective fusion of concept and execution. Over jangly indie-pop instrumentation, Jordan personifies her tendency to wallow in negativity as a literal horror movie monster. “Took in the monster we dragged from the creek / My abomination, Agony Freak” is simultaneously absurd and deeply revealing, capturing how depression can slowly consume identity from the inside out. The contrast between the upbeat instrumental and bleak lyrics gives the song a cathartic tension that much of the album otherwise lacks.

“Butterfly” delivers one of the album’s best instrumental moments thanks to its gritty, rhythmic dual-guitar bridge that channels Built to Spill. The song proves Jordan still has strong instincts for guitar-driven indie rock, particularly when she allows the arrangements to breathe rather than burying everything beneath dense layers of distortion.

Unfortunately, Ricochet rarely maintains the same level of impact across a full listen. The biggest issue is that while the ‘90s alt-rock influences are obvious, Jordan struggles to replicate the hooks and immediacy that made those records memorable in the first place. Too many songs blur together sonically, creating an album that feels more monotonous than immersive.

That issue is compounded by how underutilized Jordan’s voice feels throughout the record. On Valentine, her vocal delivery was one of her greatest assets, fragile yet commanding enough to anchor even the sparsest arrangements. Here, the instrumentation frequently overwhelms her presence, pushing her voice deeper into the mix until she sometimes feels secondary to the atmosphere itself.

To Jordan’s credit, Ricochet is not an artist lazily repeating herself. The album is clearly the product of someone actively trying to evolve and avoid creative stagnation. There is something admirable about abandoning the formula that brought acclaim in favor of a messier, more conceptual record rooted in discomfort and uncertainty.

But ambition alone does not guarantee success. Too often, Ricochet feels like a collection of half-formed ideas and sonic experiments rather than a fully realized artistic statement. Outside of a handful of standout moments, many tracks drift by without leaving much of a lasting impression.

Ultimately, Ricochet is an album that deserves credit for its willingness to take risks while still falling short in execution. Jordan reaches for something bigger and more existential than heartbreak, but in doing so, sacrifices much of the immediacy and emotional clarity that made Snail Mail compelling in the first place. The attempt to evolve is commendable. The results, unfortunately, are far less convincing.

For Fans Of:

• Wednesday – Rat Saw God

• Soccer Mommy – Sometimes, Forever

• Bully – Lucky for You