One of the most exciting varietals of tour for an artist is when they decide to take to the road between album cycles. Though Snail Mail singer, guitarist, and sole permanent member Lindsey Jordan was sidelined by a vocal injury and subsequent treatment while live music started to reemerge in the wake of the pandemic, the first half of 2022 saw her visit multiple continents in support of her late-2021 sophomore album, Valentine.
While the autumn will find her gracing large venues once again in the company of the mighty Turnstile, this summer she’s opting for a tour that sees her tagging a number of unexpected, out-of-the-way venues in less-likely cities, including this opening stop at Providence’s Fete Ballroom that presages trips to northern Vermont and a stalwart dive bar in New Haven, CT, just to name a few.
There’s a hefty number of ‘firsts’ throughout the night: not only is this the opening night of this tour, it’s also the band’s first time in Providence, save for a basement show years back when Jordan was just starting the project before being signed to Matador Records. The night also sees a few surprising setlist choices, including a left-field cover that she and the band have never performed before. Jordan is joined by a retinue of four other musicians, and each of their places onstage are wreathed in artificial roses, none moreso than the large scarlet blooms that wind their way down Jordan’s microphone stand. She steps onstage in a suit both big and grey enough to make one wonder if it’s perhaps pilfered from David Byrne and begins the night with ‘Heat Wave’, hailing from debut LP Lush. It was that record, released in 2018, that made Snail Mail a household name among followers of the broader indie rock scene, and awash in positive reviews she quickly found herself on tours with the likes of Belle and Sebastian.
Cycling between electric, acoustic, and no guitar at all throughout the evening, the tracks that find Jordan sans instrument see her dancing around the stage languidly, bending back as the tails of her suit jacket reach toward the ground, and at one point early in the night, she comes to rest dejectedly against the bass drum of Ray Brown. While Valentine was overall more of an evolutionary refinement of the sound from Lush rather than an experimental departure, some of these downtempo moments especially find Jordan making space for new sounds.
One of the best examples of this here, and one of the finest cuts from the album, is ‘Ben Franklin’. Led by a slinking bass line, the guitars that usually define a Snail Mail song are distant and spaced out, occasionally interjecting a rapidly-winding sting that syncs with Jordan’s vocals. The unconventional tonality here complements the lyrics here, finding her lost in between the recovery from one relationship and a new one that struggles to exist in the interminable shadow of its predecessor. It hinges on Jordan going into her highest vocal register before the bridge, channeling all the feeling of the song into the demand of “don’t act like you’ve never met me!” Jordan’s lyrics have always opened up to the loneliness and loss she’s faced, and the song finds her at her most axiomatically morose yet, stating over and over: “I’ve got the devil in me”.
During a pause for tuning and instrumental changeover, Jordan addresses the crowd for a bit, pondering the awkward necessity of stage banter, specifically the age-old tradition of asking in a hokey voice, “How you guys doing?!” She laughs and quips, “I do care how you’re doing, it just feels ingenuine.” Shortly thereafter the band moves firmly into uncharted territory, with Jordan announcing that they’re about to play a cover they’ve never attempted live before. Brown’s drum beat instantly gives it away, an iconic three-part pattern that soundtracked much of the late 00s and early 2010s: Muse’s ‘Starlight’. While Jordan and Matt Bellamy are distinctly different vocally, her range fits perfectly with what is perhaps his most earnest and impassioned delivery, and the sentiment of the love song fits excellently into the Snail Mail canon.
The night continues to issue surprises as much of the band, including Brown, guitar/synth player Madeline McCormack, and bassist Alex Bass, depart the stage; leaving only Jordan and guitarist Ben Kaunitz. Picking up her acoustic once again, the two play ‘Mia’, the somber closer of Valentine that hits the listener in the gut right out of the gate: “Isn’t it strange / the way it’s just over?” And it only gets sadder from there, outlining a desire that for all its simplicity, she knows will never be requited. Remaining as a duo, the band makes the odd move of playing the next song, the title track of Valentine, twice in succession – though only sort of.
Jordan recently released a demo version of the track, originally called ‘Adore You’ before the soaring chorus was formed. Much like ‘Mia’ – and about the same person – it ponders heaven and the transcendental nature of relationships from within the optimistic genesis of a love, rather than in its absence. Then the band returns all at once, and they play the studio version all the way through, effectively recreating a comprehensive history of that song’s formation and narrative live on stage.
Fully reinvigorated and once again a five-piece, the band have one song left for the night, Jordan firmly eschewing the notion of an encore. They close with ‘Pristine’, the band’s breakout single off of Lush that back in 2018 also found Jordan espousing a pyrrhic devotion to someone who may not feel the same. But despite the subject matter, Jordan and company end the show all smiles, buoyed by the audience’s anticipation for, and reaction to, the music. “Thank you so much, Providence, RI! We are Clairo!” she jokes, adding, “Just kidding, we’re Soccer Mommy!” – ostensibly a sardonic nod to how some artists are often delegitimized by being lumped together as what may ungenerously be called “sad girl music”. It’s a trope, reductive view; because in truth Jordan and her many contemporaries encompass a wide world of emotion to which they give voice skillfully and vitally; a characteristic shared with soon-to-be-tourmates like Turnstile. Like so many great bands, they wield the raw power of emotion as deftly as the strength of their sound.
Review and photos by Collin Heroux
