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<\/a><\/p>\nPhotos by Bobby Nicholas<\/p>\n
Generation Z\u2019s fetishization of \u201990s culture, from oversized clothing to embracing the show \u201cFriends,\u201d is hard to navigate for those who lived through it. Is it an homage? A piss take? Appropriation?<\/p>\n
Such questions might have been on the minds of the handful of fans at Brooklyn Paramount last Wednesday who were old enough to remember when CDs took over for tapes and going online required tying up your parents\u2019 phone line, there to see Lindsey Jordan, the singer and guitarist who performs as Snail Mail, who was 5 years old when \u201cFriends\u201d went off the air and wasn\u2019t yet born when MTV\u2019s \u201cAlternative Nation\u201d died in 1997.<\/p>\n
Jordan\u2019s tremendous but not flashy guitar skills, gift for melody and perpetually sarcastic-sounding vocal delivery put her near the top of the \u201990\u2019s revivalists, alongside the likes of Soccer Mommy and Beabadoobee, where Liz Phair and Stephen Malkmus are idols and Taylor Swift is an afterthought. It serves her well on her brand new album \u201cRicochet,\u201d and it did so in concert at the gorgeous theater on Flatbush Ave as well.<\/p>\n
A simple backdrop of a house and white picket fence set the stage as audio from a guitar tutorial played before the band walked out and launched into the one-two punch that opens \u201cRicochet\u201d: the infectious, driving \u201cTractor Beam\u201d and syncopated and clever \u201cMy Maker.\u201d \u201cYou can cast my letters to the sea\/ But you can\u2019t find anyone else like me,\u201d she sang on the opener. \u201cMy Maker,\u201d lush and sparse, is the best song on the album and was a highlight of the performance; Jordan\u2019s plain vocals, with a tinge of yearning, were the perfect vessel for the mystical themes of her lyrics.<\/p>\n
Snail Mail looked back to her 2018 debut album, \u201cLush,\u201d for the next selection, \u201cHeat Wave.\u201d After the intro, she reared back and lifted the neck of her Fender Jazzmaster while riffing in a bit of guitar heroine posturing. Jordan and company snapped back to the new record with \u201cHell,\u201d singing \u201cYou can\u2019t count yourself to sleep\/2,300 sheep\u201d before the grungy chorus: \u201cNobody else decides the way we scurry around this hell.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jordan turned back to \u201cLush\u201d for \u201cSpeaking Terms,\u201d deploying some seasick guitar bends, then shared three straight from \u201cRicochet\u201d: \u201cNowhere,\u201d \u201cDead End\u201d and \u201cCruise.\u201d<\/p>\n
A bit past the halfway point of the set, similar keys, tempos and moods sapped some of its momentum; diehard fans didn\u2019t care. \u201cAgony Freak\u201d from \u201cRicochet\u201d brought renewed focus. When Jordan sang \u201cYou should get out while you can, girl\u201d over spiky riffs, she recalled the post-emo of groups like Tigers Jaw more than anything from the \u201990s.<\/p>\n
Another new song, \u201cButterfly,\u201d was sandwiched by two from Snail Mail\u2019s second album, \u201cValentine\u201d (2021). Again, the newer track stood out, with taut, knotty guitars and hazy shoegaze vibes. Jordan\u2019s solo at the end was an attention-getter.<\/p>\n
A trio of three more \u201cRicochet\u201d songs gave the album a complete airing, besides its closer, \u201cReverie\u201d: \u201cNowhere,\u201d \u201cLight on Our Feet\u201d and the title track. \u201cThank you guys so damn much. This is my last song,\u201d Jordan said before the finale, eschewing a traditional encore. Here, Foo Fighters and one of their source bands, Sunny Day Real Estate, could be heard in the moody, clanging guitars.<\/p>\n
Chicago\u2019s Sharp Pins provided direct support with a short and sweet set of jangly and shambolic neo garage rock. The Byrds-meets-British Invasion feel of Kai Slater\u2019s recorded work takes on a heavier, more dangerous feel on stage. He and his band closed their nine-song slot with \u201cQueen of Globes and Mirrors,\u201d a minor key head\u2011bopper with nice vocal harmonies, and the raucous \u201cI Can\u2019t Stop.\u201d<\/p>\n