Mirah
Dedication
DOUBLE DOUBLE WHAMMY
Call it a seven-year itch. Shortly after Mirah embarked on her career in her early twenties, Phil Elverum snatched her up and crowned the irresistibly pleasant songwriter to be part of his experimental folk project The Microphones. It took almost no time at all for that band’s label, K Records, and its founder, Calvin Johnson, to notice the same promise in Mirah that Elverum had. In fact, Johnson and his label family so cherished Mirah (and vice versa) that the two parties spent a fruitful decade collaborating together.
With that in mind, much anticipation surrounded Dedication, not only because it marks Mirah’s first solo full-length on a different label (she’d been releasing material via her own imprint, Absolute Magnitude, in the interim), but also due to the fact that seven years have elapsed since the artist has put out a new studio album. Dedication not only signifies the loyalty she shows to others, but also her devotion to the craft of making music, whether the light in her career is burning bright or dim. Perhaps most of all, the record deals with the dedication required in order to keep a relationship alive—even if it, like that candle at the end of its tenure, burned out long ago. “Now, I’m not saying I didn’t contribute / To this shitty, stupid fucking mess we’ve gotten into / I’m just saying I’m not ready to give up on anyone / Least of all me, least of all you,” Mirah sings on “Catch My Breath,” a middle-album track that nonetheless shapes the entirety of Dedication.
While other artists might underscore their bitterness or resentment at the idea of sticking with someone who causes them misery, Mirah exudes the polar opposite. In fact, “Stumbling” is an upbeat tune, while the aforementioned “Catch My Breath” is playful and catchy enough to earn a spot on the radio. Soft, gentle instrumentation permeates most of the songs on Dedication (especially on the barely audible “To Me,” a whisper of a song). Side B is an even quieter experience, for the most part, revealing Mirah at perhaps her most transparent and vulnerable. “When I’m far away, I picture you, my little hummingbird / All day you play, you play,” she sings on the penultimate song. “And then the sun is low, the flowers droop their heads, you know / To your little nest, it’s time to go.”
Dedication is a precious commodity absent from most people in the world. But in terms of character traits, realizing one’s self and having the wisdom to know when something is over are far more precious.
