The Fine Print
July 14, 8:30 p.m.
Union Transfer, 1026 Spring Garden St., Philadelphia
It’s hard for most teenagers to even get into rock shows, let alone headline them. But Lindsey Jordan won’t need a fake ID or a negligent bouncer to take the stage — just her quick ascent through the indie rock ranks.
Despite (or perhaps because of) her age, a lot of ink has been spilled about Jordan already, and it’s hard to find a piece that doesn’t mention her youth. But this doesn’t seem to come from jealousy or wistfulness or condescending “wise beyond her years” rubbish. (At least not all the time — music writers do tend to be the jealous, wistful, condescending types.)
No, it’s because her voice is a vital one right now. Yes, it’s stunningly refined and mature and polished without sanding off the edges that make it unique. But her perspective is also still ripe with the passion and idealism that tend to fade into aloof cynicism over time. Most valuably, she’s still in touch with the radical nuance of her own uncertainty.
“You have to just let yourself figure it out,” Jordan told Pitchfork’s Jenn Pelly last year, of her rapidly shifting teen personas. “Sometimes you’re emo! One year, you’re kind of a hippie! And one year, you’re a thick-glasses hipster! And you realize at some point that there is no human being that fits into a box. You have to be a combination of things.”
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