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On stage at the Analog Theater on July 11, before an already squished crowd pining for the front of the narrow venue, opening band Japanese Breakfast engaged in stage banter. We knew this because lead singer-songwriter Michelle Zauner told us so—she joked that some of her jokes have been heard way too many times by all involved in the tour, and so probably weren't all that funny anymore. But for those of us at the sold-out show? It was the first time, and that's what counts.
Or maybe what counted more was the transparency. Later that night, four songs into her brisk headlining set, Mitski Miyawaki was joined by drummer Casey Weissbuch (formerly of Diarrhea Planet) in very politely imploring the Analog's sound guy to get the mix in their monitors right before giving up on "Thursday Girl" after two tries with a resigned "fuck." It was disappointing, not only because the song is a secret deep-cut gem on Mitski's new album, the magisterial Puberty 2, but because everything sounded on-point on the audience side. Distracted, the duo did their best to throw themselves into the next song—a cover of Calvin Harris's "How Deep is Your Love," which, like James Blake's cover of Feist's "Limit To Your Love," stripped the track to its empirical edifice, mortared it with menace, and reconfigured its club angst as a depressed bedroom-pop masterpiece.
The crowd, already over the jarring loss of "Thursday Girl," inhaled the cover without inhibition, as they did the following songs, "Once More To See You" and "Francis Forever." Whether it was intended or not—whether it was care of the compressed dynamics the room rendered or not—Mitski's songs lost much of their lush fuzz in favor of starker rhythms, bringing out the goth edges in an artist who seems to lean harder into lo-fi garage fare than plain-faced post-punk. It was a good thing—the music sounded wizened, as if all that joke-recycling and playing in small clubs with difficult sound had by now threaded a deeply felt existential texture through the band's set. Weissbuch asked again if he could please hear the guitars in his monitors, thank you.
All issues and foul-ups were forgotten during "My Body's Made of Crushed Little Stars," one of Puberty 2's more harried tracks which, when played live, spread and grew in intensity like an angry rash. Everything about it absolutely clicked—it was so revelatory it seemed to sap the energy from every song to come. It made possible Song of the Year contender "Your Best American Girl" roll over and sigh, or the strange "I Don't Smoke," from 2014's Bury Me At Makeout Creek, come off like a tearful lark. If the night had ended there, all would have been perfect, all purported sound issues totally forgotten.
Instead, after a primal run through "Drunk Walk Home," Weissbuch left the stage and, alone, Miyawaki apologized for the disjointed show, acknowledging that we had paid money to be there and "feel something." It was welcome, if unnecessary, but in turn Miyawaki promised something extraordinary, shaking out a quietly crystalline "I Bet on Losing Drugs," which she apparently never plays live.
Whether or not that's true is left to those who scour past Mitski setlists. For the rest of us, we had every reason to believe her. Like the equally excellent sets by Japanese Breakfast and first-opener Jay Som, Mitski's 15 (er, 14 and a half) songs breathed with a kind of unabashed openness, admitting faults even when she didn't have to. Sauner's joke may have been told too many times, but it was still a good joke, and it was the first time any of us heard it. Miyawaki may have been finessing the truth to make us feel better about a less-than-flawless show, to make us feel special in the midst of a long tour for the burgeoning indie star. But it was still a good truth, and one we probably needed to hear.
All photos by Henry Cromett.
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