While her friends were settling into their freshman years of college, Jordan was accruing accolades from numerous publications, a coveted signing to Matador Records and the title of “the future of indie rock.” She toured the world and brushed elbows with her heroes.
Citing the stress of having thrown herself into her music career while she was so young , Valentine, which Jordan wrote by herself in her childhood bedroom during 2019 and 2020, is a collection of shockingly frank reflections on romance that often highlight the ugly sides of a partnership gone awry.
al.,” she spells out the pressures of being indie rock royalty: “Even with a job that keeps me moving / Most days I just wanna lie down.” She directly references that aforementioned treatment program in the synthy groove “Ben Franklin”: “Post-rehab, I’ve been feeling so small / I miss your attention, I wish I could call.” She’s also a self-proclaimed perfectionist, which as a songwriter, means each word is sung with an abundance of intentionality: “You’ll always know where to find me when you change your mind,” she hollers on “Valentine.” Her choice to say “when” rather than “if” is deliberate, and all the more excruciating.
While Lush embraced the no-frills indie rock of her Matador predecessors like Pavement and early Liz Phair ” and the distorted chug of Drop Nineteens on “Glory.” On the title track, she flits seamlessly between lethargic, synthy verses and an arena-sized chorus.
But what’s most notably changed between Lush and Valentine is Jordan’s voice, which has graduated from a childlike drawl to become fuller with a wider range.
Lush was commended for its candor upon its release, but on Valentine, Jordan is seeking a little more balance: wanting to stay true to herself as someone who admits to “feeling things really hard” while acknowledging that her openness in her music – and the resulting, often overwhelmingly positive reception to it – has led to new pressures.
Throughout Valentine, she skips the metaphors in favor of pet names and specific anecdotes: She alludes to envisioning her own death on “Headlock,” to disgruntled attitudes towards sex on “Ben Franklin” and to binge-drinking her way through a party on “Automate.” Her choice to be forthright now is riskier than it was when she was a teenager writing Lush, before she was certain anyone would ever hear it.