A record review by Nat Bourgon
May 13th, 2014
When the
term “breakup” is uttered, the words “shattered”, “unhinged” and “broken” often
combine to fill in the rest of the blanks. In a relationship, a person often
builds a safe haven that feels untouchable, and empowering. When a breakup ensues, this safe haven
suddenly becomes much less safe. These
themes were bottled in a stunningly beautiful 2011 Mirah song entitled “Spaced
Out Orbit.”
After experiencing a major breakup, and five years removed from her last proper solo
record “(A)spera”, it would have been a textbook move, and an understandable
and acceptable move at that, if Mirah’s new album “Changing Light” decided to
elaborate on the large barrel of emotions at work in the crumbling of
interpersonal relationships. We would have surely succeeded to ten songs of her
trademark trembling commiserating, and grave lyrical connotations set to
downbeat guitar pickings, so long as they were peppered with that thermal, peerless
buzz that is her voice. But "Changing Light" is a way braver record than anticipated both sonically and lyrically, as caustic chaos and hopeful intent mingle to staggering effect.
“Gold Rush” is a standout track for the way it
is so quintessentially Mirah: simultaneously desolate, frenzied yet somehow
consoling. “Gold Rush” honours the
otherworldly atmosphere of her 2011 song “Spaced Out Orbit” and manages to make
something that expands on that template, and actually one ups it in both
allurement and artistry. Yet, the moments of classic Mirah such as "Gold Rush" feel special and earned, since they are more anomaly than tradition on this new record.
Indeed, "Changing Light" is the sound of an artist breaking free of habituation, wanting to expand beyond her past musical triumphs yet acutely aware of the intricacies of her gifts and strengths and willing to apply them to her newly spawned creations. "Changing Light" excels as an album on account of it being more of a document of a relentless dreamer, rather than the tears of a crushed singleton reminiscing about being coupled up.
Indeed, "Changing Light" is the sound of an artist breaking free of habituation, wanting to expand beyond her past musical triumphs yet acutely aware of the intricacies of her gifts and strengths and willing to apply them to her newly spawned creations. "Changing Light" excels as an album on account of it being more of a document of a relentless dreamer, rather than the tears of a crushed singleton reminiscing about being coupled up.
“Oxen Hope” has a
delightful unruliness about it, meticulously mirroring the prickled landscape of a stinging breakup.
Mirah lives up to her album title by remembering that in order to have “Changing
Light”, you can’t forget the light. Indeed, with lyrics like “We thought we knew
we wanted what we had/But you busted your side of the yoke”, Mirah should be
applauded for clinging tight to her playful instincts, amidst the inner turbulence and woes. (Mirah- Oxen Hope- Changing Light- 2014).
Transitioning
discontent to imaginative solace is a taxing labour, yet Mirah manages the feat on multiple occasions throughout "Light."
Opener “Goat Shepherd” has a rock-oriented spine, alternating between being raw and inventive. A spiky and flavorful tune that defies the limitations singer-songwriter music is often held privy to, “Ghost Shepherd” definitively proclaims that there is no “(A)spera” redux in the cards: It proudly announces that “Changing Light” leaps down a novel path.
“Turned the Heat Off” is chipper and spirited, in the vein of the best Coldplay anthems, but even better thanks to Mirah's earthy, DIY aesthetic in tow.
“Fleetfoot Ghost” is a sensual and intimate serenade that depicts the spark of love being spearheaded.
“24th Street” has determination and rejuvenation
at its core, evoking a soaking wet but refreshing oceanic wave splash. The song advocates for the value of motion ,
even without a fixed destination in mind.
Ultimately, "Changing Light" is the most varied, poignant solo album of Mirah's fourteen year career, thanks to its realized conviction to paint (with sounds and words), a visceral image of the intense impact intimacy and connectivity can have on a person, rather than pass pointed judgment about the past. "Changing Light" thankfully finds Mirah accepting and moving forward with her wounds rather than aggravating them. She hits the long-awaited middle ground between maturity and restlessness. "Changing Light" seems Mirah mature enough to use the restlessness as a gateway to change, and restless enough to continue to reach, grow and dream, making it her meaningful, crucial memo to the human condition, and her finest record to date.
