Not that I can't speak for myself, but I've been troubled by the recent dearth of intelligent female voices in indie music. I'm too smart for Lilith, too boy crazy for Mr. Lady bands, and too sane and reality-based for Cat Power or Mary Timony. So, where's a girl to turn in her more contemplative moments? Lately, a good option has been K Records, which has brought us Marine Research/Heavenly's Amelia Fletcher, Rose Melberg and Jen Sbragia of the Softies, and now Mirah.
Although this album marks Mirah's full-length debut, it's already evident that she's an accomplished songwriter with a distinctive lyrical bent. At times, Mirah has a Liz Phair-esque libidinous bluntness, but she lacks Phair's cynicism. Instead, Mirah maintains a charming naivete which perfectly compliments her girlish voice. These elements may seem contradictory, but as the album title suggests, there's more to Mirah than it may first appear. Her juxtaposition of these two qualities allows her to deliver lines like, "If we sleep together will you be my friend forever?" with poignant sincerity.
The opening track, "Million Miles," an account of small town life with acoustic accompaniment, might lead listeners to expect the rest of You Think It's like This but It's Really like This to be of a similar minimal, folky nature. But again, we've been misled. "Of Pressure," one of the album's highlights, begins with a simple drum machine beat and gradually layers on organ, handclaps, tambourine, fuzzed-out guitar, real drums, and additional vocal tracks as Mirah asks, "Is this a release or/ A build up of pressure?" The clever production answers the question. The rest of the record similarly rewards careful listening, whether based around heavily reverbed guitar and murmured backing vocals like "La Familia" or the delicate violin arrangements of "Archipelago."
Whereas most female singer/songwriters leave me either ambivalent or vaguely embarrassed, Mirah has crafted an album that thankfully lacks standard Sarah McLachlan hippie antics. She transcends the "female artist" ghetto without being afraid to write about boys-- a rare accomplishment, indeed. I never suspected Calvin Johnson would be ever a pivotal force in women's music, but his signings prove me wrong.
