Lindsey Jordan, professionally known as Snail Mail, has long known how to capture youthful angst in all its melancholic nostalgia. Her third studio project, Ricochet, delivers exactly that. On this brilliant new record, Jordan immerses the listener in affecting ’90s alt-rock symphonies, echoing the teeming sonic universe of her debut, Lush.

Over larger-than-life string arrangements and distinctive sonic flourishes, she reckons with both the expanse and brevity of life and death. What is the meaning of life, and what happens after? Will the pain felt on Earth ever fade away? Is she decent enough to make it to heaven? These are the questions that plague her. She tries punishing herself for not having the answers and distracting herself until the questions fade, but nothing works. Ultimately, the quest for answers alienates her from everyone — even herself.

The only constant Jordan finds is change. “To be loved is to be changed,” she declares on “Dead End.” If that’s true, then Ricochet isn’t just an album about mortality — it’s about surrendering to transformation. The questions may never be answered, but the living happens anyway.