Mirah at the Hi-Dive
The most immediately noticeable thing about Mirah as she took the stage on Sunday, April 12 at the The Hi-Dive was her feet. They were bare and perched on a small bamboo mat (which was probably advisable, seeing as how—despite the fact that The Hi-Dive is one of the least skeezy bars in Denver—you still shouldn't be walking around barefoot there). Add to that her comparison of the venue's bright stage lights to the set of Xanadu, and you’ve got a fairly eccentric first impression of the infamously quirky singer-songwriter. And then there was the rest of the band with their dress slacks, tucked-in white shirts, and frilly frocks; they looked more like a group of librarians and grad students than indie-rock musicians. Granted, there's a fine line, but still.
Those stuffy first impressions faded as the night’s set got underway, and Mirah's music—and personality—took center stage. Between tender, sugary songs she was all smiles and jokes, and she spoke to the audience like each person was hanging out in her living room. At one point, before starting a song, she turned to her drummer and said, "Ready, Rachel? Next it’s 'Pickles.'" The band chuckled, and the audience instinctively laughed a little, recognizing an inside joke—and then Mirah turned around and let them all in on it. "Rachel's set list is also a shopping list." Later, after closing a song with the lines "I'm sorry about so much, baby / but I know you’ll understand," she laughed at the audience singing-along and joked, "You guys just love breaking up with your girlfriends. You’re just ready to shout about it! You’re all so sorry!" It was a strange meta-moment, but it was endearing.
At times, though, Mirah's eccentricities and affectations bordered on alienating. Her comment about the lights being too bright—“Even the dust was lit up, and then when I looked out at you guys, you all started turning into dust. It was really beautiful”—came off more like passive-aggressive whining than some kind of elfin preciousness. And at one point she told the audience, “I normally don’t let everybody sing-along, but you guys are so great.” She normally doesn’t let the audience sing-along to her songs? Come on. But it was hard to be anything but charmed, especially at the end of the set, when she coached the audience in a fake encore. “Since we’re trapped up here onstage, we’re going to play our last song”—she emphasized the words “last song” and might as well have winked at the audience—“and then you’re going to close your eyes and pretend we’re gone. Then you’re going to start clapping. It’ll get louder. And when you open your eyes we’ll be back, and we’ll play some more!” And the crowd did indeed pull off this whimsical feat of magic—much as Mirah herself did the whole night.
