“It’s not a Snail Mail show without at least one angsty Instagram post.” This sentiment, shared before the show between two girls a bathroom stall over from me, held true as Snail Mail and opener, Choir Boy, played the final show of a lengthy, international tour (Choir Boy only joined on the final, west coast leg). The crowd was made up of a wide range of millennials outfitted in black, denim, Doc Martins, and old band t-shirts — very much so the type of people that have claimed allegiance to a previous decade at least once in the last week. Monday, we were transported back to the late 80s and early 90s, with the new wave tendencies of opener Choir Boy and the indie grunge rock of headliner Snail Mail.
As the four members of Choir Boy took their places on stage, the crowd milled about impatiently. Choir Boy has strong branding — looking like the edgier, art-school-attending older brothers of the Stranger Things kids. With a vocalist who sounds like Andy Bell of Erasure and arrangements like that of Bronski Beat, I felt pulled back to the glory days of new wave, before Morrissey was Morrissey and before Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures album cover graced the chest of every Urban Outfitters t-shirt. The songs flowed well, the beat was danceable, and the mood was set perfectly. I found myself enjoying the deliberate gaud of it all. I would have liked to have been acquainted with their music beforehand; perhaps then I would have understood the lyrics of lead vocalist Adam Klopp’s heavily styled singing. But, Choir Boy is certainly a band to watch if you find yourself gravitating towards the synth-filled dark pop of the late 80s.
After Choir Boy’s set, I received approximately four different texts from an impatient friend watching from further back in the crowd, complaining about the length of the 30-minute break between sets. We later found out that Snail Mail mastermind, Lindsey Jordan, had been fighting off a stomach bug, justifying the break and somewhat short set she played.
Jordan’s backing band began building noise while she messed around with her gear. As she stood, the music slowed to the gentle intro of “Heat Wave,” the second single off of Snail Mail’s critically acclaimed debut album, Lush. Leading up to the show, I had expected Jordan to perform similarly to or slightly worse than her studio recordings, as most artists do. However, I was pleasantly surprised — nay, blown away — that Snail Mail played an even better live show than their superbly mixed studio albums. Jordan is the voice of my lovelorn yet determined adolescent heart: crisp, strong, and with a slight waver that conveys a bold vulnerability. Her voice and subject matter cut through your emotional scar tissue with surgical precision so you can heal anew. While she slid around some notes, it’s a reminder that this multi-faceted artist is just one of us, but with a natural affinity for music arrangement and the determination to learn the skills needed to create her world of sound.
The performance itself was clearly centered around Jordan. Despite her references to Snail Mail as a “we” rather than an “I,” Snail Mail is a solo project. Her backing band performed admirably — navigating the melancholy tunes with softness when the moment called for a gentle hand and with power when the music demanded a momentous swell. The tango between Jordan’s voice and the sound was a perfect match. The backing band departed for the last few songs, leaving just Jordan and her guitar to sing us out. She closed the set with a few more songs, the crowd screaming along with lyrics like “and the passing phases feel the same,” from “Anyone,” and the night ended by 10:30 p.m. Despite the lack of encore, the show felt complete, and we left with the lyrics “do things work out for you?,” of her song “Stick,” echoing in our heads.
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