Snail Mail Live At The Hollywood Palladium

It was a bit of a hectic Wednesday evening as I made my way over to The Hollywood Palladium. I was still shaky from the morning’s midterm and getting even shakier as we struggled to find parking in central Hollywood. But honestly, most of the shakiness I felt was a strong adrenaline buzz. I was about to see one of my favorite artists perform for the first time.

By the time we made it inside the venue, the floor was already packed. Music nerds and indie geeks were fighting to get closer to the stage at nearly a half-hour before showtime. The excitement was palpable.

Plastered to the back of the stage was a pink banner with “Snail Mail” printed across the center in the same serif font used on the cover of her newest album Valentine. The rest of the stage was dressed like a romantic rose garden. There were vines and cherub statues adorned with the bows and arrows of cupid, the agent of St. Valentine himself.

Within minutes, I could tell that Snail Mail, a.k.a. Lindsay Jordan, was a true force to be reckoned with. She started with her explosive single “Valentine” from her new album of the same name. Her accusatory words of “Why’d you wanna erase me, darling Valentine?” washed over us completely like a tidal wave. The raging swell continued with the oncoming forces of the drum fill and the guitar riff. We were utterly helpless against the power of the music. But, to be honest, I didn’t want to be saved. With each new wave a sound, the audience’s frenzy tripled in fervor. We were happy to be drawing in our emotions alongside Snail Mail and her band.

Jordan may be a mere hair taller than five feet, but she a towering presence. She moved across the stage with swagger, her sly smirk never leaving her face. She moved her hips with a sort of masculine power. She tossed her hair as she shredded on the car like a ’70s rockstar. She knew she was tearing it up. She knew that we were eating out of the palm of her hand.

Well, at least I was eating out of the palm of her hand. This particular performance suffered a bit from a disease I call “LA Crowd Syndrome.” “LA Crowd Syndrome” is a particularly depressing disease that happens when small to midsize acts, such as Snail Mail, perform in LA - aka the heart of the commercially-driven music industry. Symptoms of LA Crowd Syndrome are a lack of audience participation, limited movement or dancing, awkward silences, and incessant talking throughout the entirety of the performance - even during the most sensitive and emotional moments. I honestly wanted to punch the guys behind me

To make matters worse, the Palladium may just be the worst venue to see a rock band ever. The room is shaped like an ellipse, the pit being wider from left to right than front to back. The awful shape makes it A. harder to actually see the action on stage B. impossible to hear anything clearly. Of course, you can hear the tone of the music, and the sound guy certainly turned up the drums enough that you could hear the attack of each beat, but if you want to hear distinct guitar licks or understand lyrics, you’re completely out of luck. Considering it was built in the ‘40s, I can understand how the shape of the building makes it more than ideal for swing dancing. But, it’s 2022 - the vibe had changed.

Snail Mail had everything - the audience, the venue, and the acoustics - working directly against her. Yet, she prevailed, and then some. She prevailed by doing what she does best - playing music. I fell in love with Snail Mail’s music due to her songwriting. I loved her melodies and lyrics above all else. I was expecting her vocals and the songs to be what sold me that night. But, although both were phenomenal, it was Jordan’s guitar that wowed me the most. Every so often, Jordan would add a cheeky riff to add even more spice to each song. A handful of times, she broke out into a full solo, surprising the audience with a new, spontaneous sound.

Jordan ended the night with her biggest hit, and my personal favorite song of hers, “Pristine.” Any hesitation remaining inside me fled at the sound of the first chord. I wasn’t just singing, I was screaming the lyrics back to her. I let all of the stresses of the morning’s exams, the anxiety of parking, and the anger at the venue and the crowd, leave my body. I was free.