Over the last decade Mirah, certainly one of the best-kept secrets of indie music, has garnered recognition for her intimate, lo-fi approach and penchant for subtle sonic experimentation. Last year’s collection of outtakes, The Old Days Feeling, showed her playing over ukuleles, tape hiss, detuned pianos, and ska bands as well as in more traditional singer-songwriter settings. With her new album, (a)spera, Mirah elevates her esoteric orchestration and production to more sophisticated levels. More refined than her previous work, the music sounds cleaner and more produced without losing any of the lo-fi intimacy that’s always infused her music. Most importantly, (a)spera features some of the finest songs Mirah’s ever written—compositions both direct and sophisticated, stripped down and gorgeously orchestrated.
Woodwinds mirroring the vocals of “The River” add a floating dreaminess to the song, as do delicate swells of wah-wah brass that spiral with the wafting vocal moans of the song’s close. “The Forest” features a war-like drum line underpinning trumpet melodies that bring to mind pictures of marching Spanish conquistadors.
“Gone Are The Days” is colored with brushed drums, vibraphone, and sparse funky hits of bari saxophone. “Generosity” has Mirah’s jazzy lilt bouncing over a chugging string quartet. The subtle string tremolos and mallet percussion of “Education” build to an epic ending that manages to pull your heartstrings without sounding nauseatingly sweet. “Country of the Future” is a simultaneously exhilarating and soothing tribute to the sounds of Brazil’s Carnaval featuring an intoxicating mix of upright bass, cinematic string flourishes, a percussion line, and a chorus of la-la-las.
As intriguing as Mirah’s orchestration is, the strongest instrument is still her voice. Generally singing in sweet hushed tones with jazzy inflections, her voice conveys both childlike playfulness and philosophical weight. In “While We Have The Sun,” her breathy vocals climb over a floating chorus of voices that shifts and floats like rays of light. She sings lines like “Live your life with a compassion that you can be proud of” in an almost hypnotic sense of innocent wonder. In “The River” she sings, “Before my eyes, the fireflies, they make the night sky glow,” with the dreamy melancholy of an adolescent looking out of her bedroom window late on a summer night.
With (a)spera, Mirah has created a rare album that is as emotionally direct as it is sophisticated. Every song on here has the hooks and accessibility of great pop songwriting, but with a left-field approach to sonic textures and orchestration that conjures up images of the Far East, South America, medieval warfare and Victorian parlor rooms. Despite this integration of diverse styles and sounds, the end product is a lonely and philosophical late-night daydream that leaves you floating in a beautiful sense of detachment.
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