Mirah + The Blow + Anna Oxygen + Pash

Thank goodness for basement shows. House shows are always a thrill but a show in the basement is pretty much icing on the cake. Is it the acoustics? The strange feel of listening to music underground? The fact that you’re seeing a band in someone’s lived in space? The chill that even in the summertime seems to be second nature to basements? An art space in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts known collectively as “Dan’s House” (which may or may not have been Dan’s house) welcomed Mirah, the Blow, Anna Oxygen and Pash for a basement show a few weeks ago: each of these women are part of the so-called “Invisible Shield”, the Northwest arts collective associated with Olympia’s K Records. Due to a friend’s flat tire down the street, I missed Pash’s performance and arrived in the middle of Anna Oxygen’s set. Formerly of the new wave/operatic group the Space Ballerinas, Oxygen’s performance interspersed narrative with aerobic dance moves set to a background of projected slides. Her songs told stories of “a scientist who captures girl’s worlds inside of test tubes and petri dishes.” Yup, you heard right. Also notable was the keytar Oxygen had strapped across her chest, which, save for a synthesizer, was the only other accompaniment for her songs. She repeatedly professed her love for scientists and asked if there were any present in the crowd. She reminded me a bit of a present-day Kathleen Hanna with her energetic performance, kick ass voice, and fun dance moves. But she also had a bit of nerd thrown in there for good measure. Besides having most of the 100 or so audience members bopping along to her synth-ems, Oxygen actually hit the floor several times for some old-fashioned leg splits and push ups. Part new-wave, part hip hop, she was all energy and positive thinking. Next up was the Blow (a.k.a Khaela Maricich), who has performed under many monikers — among which is one of my all time band names: Get the Hell Out of the Way of the Volcano. It’s one indication of the Blow’s shtick, if you will, but if that makes her seem contrived, think again. She is a complex character who will most likely enthrall, confuse, and possibly bore you with her performance. It all depends on how attentive you feel like being. Like Anna Oxygen, the Blow is part performance and part narrative, but the only audience participation that’s required is listening to her story. With her extended storytelling-cum-song stylistic tendencies, she’s reminiscent of Daniel Johnston or perhaps a rambling-in between-the-songs Chan Marshall. The key difference, though, is what is ultimately the most interesting aspect of the Blow’s performance. She carefully creates a narrative that envelopes you with its intensity (at points she seems like she’s on the verge of a breakdown) but leaves you confused with its purpose and with several outstanding queries: Is she speaking of her own life? Or of someone else’s? Is there a common thread among the stories? The Blow is in some ways completely baffling to watch without knowing any background. It wasn’t until I started reading about her on the web that I surmised she probably was, in fact, performing a fictional story (although who can say for sure and really, does it matter?). From what I can figure out the stories and subject matter she talked about had been performed over the last year in a piece she’s called Blue Sky vs. Night Sky, complete with characters wrapped up in their own childhood experiences of girl friendship, potential love, and the ever elusive haunting figure of girl youth, “Mom.” The Blow is an experience more than anything else. She is a new kind of storyteller. Around 11:30 p.m., Mirah took center stage and, like the performers before her, suggested that the crowd might be comfortable sitting down. Unfortunately for me no one took that advice so it was virtually impossible for me to see due to my size and distance from the stage. But that’s okay because the so-called “sexiest voice in indie rock” (as is oft-attributed to Mirah) was enough to capture my attention for the duration. Similar to folk-pop goddess Mary Lou Lord, Mirah’s voice is at times both small and full, yet always majestic sounding. Her full name is Mirah Yom Tov Zeitlyn and she’s been putting out records and performing since 1996; however, it was as a member of the Microphones that she gained notoriety on the national circuit. To date, she’s released three full-length solo records along with a recent collaboration with Ginger Brooks Takahashi entitled Songs from the Black Mountain Music Project. And though she appears slightly reticent, she’s no newcomer to performing. She’s played in Boston at least four times that I know of in the past two years or so, and has consistently toured (either with collaborative projects or for her solo work) through the course of her career. Of course, this makes her all the more charming. Mirah played mostly tracks off of her 2001 release Advisory Committee, and, as would be expected, the songs were markedly different from the production-heavy tracks on record. But what was surprising was just how strong they sounded without the Phil Elvrum add-ons: songs like “Cold Cold Water” sounded remarkably strong despite the absence of galloping horse hoof-steps that are so prominent on Advisory Committee. Other songs like “The Garden” and “Mt. St Helens” had audience members adding in foot stomps or coos, echoing the sounds on record. Unfortunately, I had to leave before the end of the set due to a variety of factors. But it’s a great to see that the Invisible Shield troupe seem dedicated to keeping shows interesting and experimental, with an emphasis on audience participation (the “Talent Show” of 2002, for example). While seemingly invasive for shy indie rock folk, this has in reality played itself out fairly well. The experience yields a positive environment for both performers and audience members who contribute to art “as it happens”. This latest roster of traveling storytellers is in some ways reinventing the folk tradition in modern, thoroughly feminist forms. All of the performers tell a story using a variety of different methods: through dance (Anna Oxygen), song (Mirah), or straight-ahead storytelling (the Blow). Perhaps even more notable was that I was able to look around and see a crowd evenly split among the genders that was easily taken in by the performers before us. Over the years, I’ve watched many a male friend roll their eyes when I pop on CD by a female “singer-songwriter.” Sure, it could be a simple matter of taste or opinion, but too often I felt like the fact of their womanhood made it seem like dangerous territory for the typical GBV-loving fan. In the early ’90s it seemed that being a feminist female musician from the Northwest meant your music would be perceived as confrontational, exciting, inspirational, sometimes anti-male and always in your face. Then things calmed down with the mid-’90s but the labels were still there and most of my male indie rock friends totally missed out on gems like the Softies/Rose Melberg, Lois, or Heavenly. The artists associated with the Invisible Shield are indeed more subtle but no less successful in translating their vision. Of course it’s due in part to bands like Heavens to Betsy or Sarah Dougher that we can be a bit more subtle than in the yesteryear. The simple and encouraging fact is that before me were confident women performing simply as artists. Maybe this is a testament to a changing culture, and that’s one of the most positive things I can think of in these trying political times. It seemed the obviousness of feminism was as commonplace as the air among us in that cold dank basement.