Mirah wants San Francisco to let loose

April 7, 2009, at Bimbo’s 365 Club

By Soumeya Bendimerad
Published: April 11th, 2009 | 10:40am

As a songwriter and performer since the mid-’90s, Mirah is no stranger to the stage. She brought the grace, confidence, and humor of a decade’s worth of performing with her as she graced the stage at Bimbo’s 365 Club in San Francisco alongside a healthy dose of humor and enthusiasm.

The show opened gradually as the audience stood hushed, almost in reverence to the singer’s stalwart indie-rock credentials and impeccably clear and sweet voice which rose and fell through the first three songs, including “Jerusalem,” from her third album, C’mon Miracle (K Records). But Mirah was not content with a quiet, adoring crowd. Flanked by what seemed to be her closest friends (she introduced them all as “the most adorable people you’ve ever seen”), including fellow songwriter Tara Jane O’Neil, her banter was playful as she encouraged the crowd to let loose.

She interspersed her older, more guitar-based, singer-songwriter tunes with new songs from her latest release, (a)spera, put out by her longtime label, K Records. As the crowd warmed up, so did the set. As the night went on, any number of instruments were hauled on stage, including a violin and a xylophone, as well as Tara Jane O’Neil’s “bass” —which appeared as a Wii jerry-rigged to serve as a bass. The band mixed its styles, breaking into a klezmer-like romping polka for one song, then swinging back to more lush and full arrangements of others. Smiling happily, the band ended the set with “You’ve Gone Away,” which again showcased Mirah’s staggeringly lovely voice and intimate, evocative lyrics. Rather than feeling disjointed, the set displayed the musical explorations of Mirah’s significant career and her wide-open approach to sonic influences.

The crowd roared for an encore, fully awake now, and Mirah and her band complied and then some and they promised “something very special.” They then launching into dancey, Casio-keyboard-remixed versions of two songs, which had the members of the band bouncing on stage and the audience mirroring them on the dance floor. Before starting the second number, Mirah suddenly stopped cold. She told the audience that she had been told there was a fog machine. And now that she had remembered, there was no going back. Pleading to the fog machine gods, she launching into the song, hoping at least a few puffs of fog would emerge. As the machine smoked to life, Mirah immediately jumped toward it and waved the smoke towards the crowd. A consummate performer, Mirah wanted to share everything she had to offer with her audience, and the night ended in a haze of mutual good feeling.
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Mirah feature