Mirah at the Bowery Ballroom 7-10-2007

This isn't the show I was at but I bet it was good.

Singer-songwriter Mirah Yom Tov Zeitlyn is somewhat of an oddity in today's music scene. Her digital footprint is almost non-existent as she has made no music videos, has no official website of her own - relying on the barebones site provided by her label - and shockingly enough does not even maintain an official page on Myspace, Virb or Purevolume. And yet she's been signed to K Records for 8 years, has released 3 EPs and 3 full lengths (with a fourth due out in August) and has established a large enough fanbase to sell out the Bowery Ballroom. How does she do it, you ask? Word of mouth and fantastic, devastatingly sweet music.

The evening began in rather unexpected fashion as at first it appeared that openers Magnolia had cutely let their two daughters come out and tune their instruments. It turned out that these two seemingly ten year-old girls were actually the band. This guitar and drums two-piece played simple, power-chorded early-90s grunge and in all honesty did a pretty damn good job of it. Halfway through the set the girls traded instruments and switched gears to power-chorded mid-90s alternative (a huge leap, I know) and while I could moan and gripe about the simplistic songwriting and a few minor mistakes that would be a largely pointless exercise. These girls have years to develop and for their age I was very impressed with what they were able to do - and I've certainly heard far worse from bands with decades more experience and a record deal. And really while they certainly have a lot to learn if they want to be good, pure playing ability isn't always necessary for success - either of them could walk onto The Donnas right now.

While Magnolia was a pleasant surprise and distraction, by the end of their set I was ready to hear the polish and development of a professional, adult musician. As the "professional" and "polished" Benjy Feree took the stage playing some of the most self-indulgent and annoyingly masturbatory alt. country I've ever heard in my life I quickly rethought my position and was left longing for the simple and unassuming music of the two pre-teens. With a stage presence reminiscent of Sam Rockwell's interpretation of Zaphod Beeblebrox Feree went on to play 45 minutes of hum-drum, mediocre, formulaic, boring clap-trap, and the only thing that kept me from abandoning the stage area for the downstairs bar was the fear of losing what I thought was a rather prime viewing spot for Mirah's set later. I was able to distract myself for a couple of songs by exchanging text-messages with a friend but once that conversation dried up I was left with the heroic task of trying to simply stay awake. Had the lights not been so low I would have pulled out my copy of American Gods and been far more entertained.

The sour taste Feree left in my mouth faded with the house lights as Mirah took the stage. If you've never seen her live, it's like the girl next door is playing songs to herself in her bedroom with her window open and you, in your room are just falling asleep. These songs of profound innocence and openness weave their way into your tired mind creating an atmosphere of surrealism and comforting warmth. Maybe you're supposed to hear them and maybe you're not; all you know is that they are beautiful.

Her opening song "We're Both So Sorry" showcased her ability to be simultaneously heartwrenchingly vulnerable and breathlessly sensuous

I know you didn't mean it and you're sorry that i left
I'll go right on pretending i've got nothing to regret
Except all of the times we wasted giving only second best
You always seemed to lose the spark when i was only half undressed

as she slowly coaxed barely audible notes from her guitar strings while whispering the words into collective waiting ears of the tightly packed crowd. Crafting scenes with only her lilting voice, "Don't Die in Me" was dry and foreboding while the normally grandiose "Cold, Cold Water" (forgive the Lost mash-up... as I said she has no music videos, and everything on YouTube is a fan-vid or live recording) was stripped down and tinged with a sense of desperate longing.

Between songs Mirah was affable, self-deprecating and almost too sweet as she related stories of growing up in Philadelphia, talked about the new record and engaged the crowd in a trivia game wherein she would sing a description of an insect and they would guess which insect she was referring to. These were actually snippets from her upcoming release - which she says is insect-themed - and despite the odd subject matter the a cappella bits of song sounded quite good. Featured insects include the ant, the cicada and the dung beetle (of which she did a terribly adorable little impression.)

The set meandered back and forth through Mirah's extensive discography, though of course with the limited time available she was unable to scratch the surface by the time she announced her last song. Now, in just about every show I go to, when a nationally touring band announces "This is our last song of the night, you guys have been great" they do not, in fact, mean it is their last song. It's standard practice these days to leave the stage for two minutes or so then come back and play an encore (the Ataris, comically enough, once said that they didn't feel like leaving the stage so "This will be our last song, and then we're just going to play two more.") This isn't required by any stretch of the imagination, but almost every band does it - indeed I can only think of two occasions when a band has NOT played an encore - and so I am always amazed when people actually start leaving after the "last song" is over. I thought it was common knowledge that the show isn't over till the house lights come up. Surely if you've stayed through two or more opening bands for this hour-long set you can spare a 5 minute wait to hear a few more songs. For her part, Mirah's three song encore included two from her remix album, and since she did not have a synth or drum machine on stage with her these tunes consisted of her singing while her drummer beat-boxed behind her. Corny? Maybe. Disarming and completely entertaining? Positively.

The true magic of Mirah's live show is her ability to launch herself into a different world with a simple strum of her guitar. Those of us watching get caught up in the tangible textures of her voice and are swept along through soundscapes of hope, heartache, loss, longing, and ultimately peace. As we float over triumphant peaks and desolate valleys we cast our eyes to the stage to see if she has accompanied us on our journey through dreams only to find that it is she that has exuberantly, with a quick shrug and smile, allowed us to follow her.

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