Mirah Blows

I'm still an innocent when it comes to the live music scene. While I have friends like Preston who grew up, perhaps even lived and died by the shows ey attended, that was not a part of my reality. As a teenager in Connecticut, going to shows was unheard of. If anyone came to play, it was some big name who appealed to the white, upper-class crowd willing to pay out big bucks to an artist willing to make the trip to Connecticut. It was just big venues featuring popular artists. Consequently, I saw the Goo Goo Dolls with Third Eye Blind, and the Counting Crows with John Mayer, not exactly shows that give you indy cred or inspire you to keep pursuing live music in the future.

For this reason, I find it to be quite a big deal whenever I go to live shows at all. I try to be very selective in my choices, mostly limiting myself to bands I know I'll like like the Go! Team. Unfortunately, even with the best of intentions, there is always a catch, as I inevitably run into problems while seeing otherwise great artists like the Polyphonic Spree, Bishop Allen, and 90 Proof. In a way, concerts stress me out in the same way that going to the movies does, since I feel trapped in a situation I can't easily excuse myself from or multi-task during. On this past Friday night when I am invited to go see a concert, I am a bit torn: though I want to see one of the acts, the Blow (pictured at top right), towards the headliner, Mirah, I feel... well... more on Mirah later. Ultimately, I opt in, but it's not the easiest of decisions.

While waiting in line for tickets, Katy and Stacy bring us a pizza for dinner. Collectively, we eat everything except one remaining slice. We try to offer the last piece to the any one of the hundred people standing by us, yet not one would take us up on the offer. This is why I dislike LA scenesters with their too cool for school attitudes and eating disorders, acting like they're too good for a stranger's pizza. (We couldn't find any homeless people on Hollywood Blvd. for that matter.) Fine, we'll throw the pizza out, y'all just lick the edible body glitter off your arm for nourishment.

Once inside the venue but before the show starts, Katy receives a phone call which informs eir that a lifelong friend had died in an avalanche a few hours earlier. Naturally, this event puts a significant damper on the evening. I haven't realized that death by avalanche is a real occurrence and not just a soap opera plot. To eir credit, Katy is remarkably strong and holds it together pretty well, vowing to think positively of the great life eir friend had rather than dwelling on its end. With this news, I'm not sure any of us can have enjoyed the opening band, High Places, even if it are good. High Places features a xylophone and female vocals, which seems cool in concept, but each song sounds like the one before it. At least High Places isn't one big marijuana joke as I initially suspected, because that sure gets old. (On a side note, I've been teaching Emily Dickinson's poem "We Never Know How High We Are" and the stoner jokes just won't stop, though I suppose the actual theme of achievement is not something that would resonate with most of these kids.)

Next is The Blow, one of my favorite musical acts that I've been introduced to in the past year when I heard Madeleine playing it off eir computer. Though I like all of the dance beat-packed tracks, I am particularly taken by the song "Parentheses," being a Claremont Grammarian and all. With cute lyrics like "When you're holding me/We make a pair of parentheses" and "If something in the deli aisle makes you cry/Of course I'll put my arms around you and walk you outside/Through the sliding doors - why would I mind?" how can one resist? Check out the official karaoke-inspired video here:


The performer, Khaela, walks out on stage wearing all white, to which the audience coos that ey looks "like an angel." Actually, the Blow looks ridiculous in the outfit -- not that I'm complaining, as that is my aesthetic of choice. The Blow's set is well worthwhile, though hardly what I was expecting since there is probably more talking by Khaela than music, highlighting eir background in performance art. Never before have I heard an artist so thoroughly explain the origination and meaning of eir songs; having previously found many of the Blow's lyrics ambiguous, the stories are a real treat. Plus, they're entertaining to boot. Khaela is pretty frank about eir neuroses, making eir relatable. Eir musings about attempting to write a song about the entire universe straddle the line between profound and absurd, which I feel is a remarkably honest place to be. I am impressed with eir commentary on relationships, existentialism, fulfillment, and sexuality, and it will definitely enhance the way I listen to the Blow's music in the future. During this set, I no longer perceive the audience to be annoying scenesters, but part of a heavenly blend of androgyny and bisexuality.

The audience goes back to being obnoxious for me, however, with the start of Mirah. I have a lot of friends who dig Mirah, but I find eir to be quite dull. I feel as though Mirah is someone I should like since ey fits the mold of a sweet-voiced, folky songwriter that I usually enjoy. Previously, I've seen Mirah perform at Kohoutek, but I couldn't get into it. What I recall most is that at that show, Mirah debuted a song from eir (then) upcoming album all about bugs. The song was little more than a list of insects and I actually felt embarrassed for eir.

This time, however, I go into the Mirah set with an open mind. Earlier in the day, I've learned that Mirah once spent the night in my bedroom. Not while I was in it, mind you, but back when Mirah was less successful, ey did a local performance and was offered overnight accommodations at my house, or more specifically, my room. I came to this concert hoping to fall in love with Mirah so I could brag that this great indy-rock superstar had slept in my room as some sort of brush with fame story.

Well, that doesn't happen. Her set is still dull. So dull, in fact, that an intoxicated Amy gets on eir cellphone and unknowingly talks loudly through one of Mirah's quiet tunes until I finally remove eir to the lobby before someone beats eir up. (That's still my favorite part of the night.) How dull is the show? Well, considering I've come to the show with a bunch of Mirah fans and this group unanimously elected to leave the concert less than halfway through her set, I think that says it all. Frankly, even if Mirah begs to get back in my bed, I'm not sure I'll accept.

I'm not giving up on live shows by any means, but I think I'll continue being discretionary about which ones I attend in the future.