[This post originally appeared on Team Tinnitus]

It’s a freezing-ass night in Portland, and I just got back from seeing Mirah at Nocturnal, a brightly-colored all ages on top / 21+ below nightclub on East Burnside. The last time I saw her was at the PDX Pop Now! festival, at the Meow Meow last summer. I was one of the organizers of that event, and I remember her set distinctly, a sweaty and still oasis in the midst of an exciting, panicky weekend. This oasis might have had something to do with drinking beer in the green room with my co-blogger immediately before the set, but I digress.

On that day she was accompanied by a full band, complete with drums, strings, the works. Tonight she was alone, just her and a guitar, sometimes a piccolo. No matter: what makes Mirah Mirah is that voice. Clear as a bell, with this gorgeous, resonate midrange. Which I suppose could also describe the sound of a nice acoustic guitar, which might explain the perfectly unified sound they make together.

Her music fits like that. The words cut deep, squaring life and death and the small enormity in between. Small enormity; that’s what I heard tonight. Her lyrics are short and sharp; stark wisdom delivered in lucid tones, over pretty, stark guitar lines, the arrangement also stark, pretty. These simple, perfect parts make room for silence, and nudge towards infinity.

But that’s a lot of words and the three that kept coming to mind throughout this show and the last are enough: such beautiful music.

Drinks drunk: 2 Pabst