Mitski Owns My Soul: How the internet’s indie dream girl brought D.C. to tears

After waiting on the freezing, windy D.C. Wharf for nearly two hours and struggling to find a spot where I could see the stage, I was a little apprehensive for this concert. Just hours before, Mitski’s team had announced that there would be no opener for the show due to a positive COVID-19 test, meaning concertgoers had to wait until 8:30 p.m., nearly two hours after they were admitted into the venue, before they would hear music. This had me a little bummed, but after some perseverance and a couple iMessage games, Mitski and her touring band took the stage.

True to its name, the Laurel Hell tour opened with two songs off of her latest album: “Love Me More” and “Should’ve Been Me” had nearly everyone in the sold-out concert hall dancing in their places.

She followed with some tracks from “Bury Me at Makeout Creek” and “Be the Cowboy,” providing a more or less even mix from each album, with even some songs off of “Lush,” “Puberty 2” and “Retired from Sad, New Career in Business” making their way in the setlist.

Just when I found myself spacing out for a second, the band started up with fast-paced drums and prominent electric guitar, where Mitski sang a high-energy “Townie” that drew me right back in. I soon realized, though, that I was a fly caught in Mitski’s web as she followed the upbeat song with a whiplash-inducing “I Don’t Smoke.” The band’s droning synth and harsh guitar over lyrics of “if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room / you can lean on my arm as you break my heart” was beautifully somber and elicited a reaction of earth-shattering grief that you just can’t get from listening on Spotify. I’d never thought too hard about the instrumentation on Mitski’s albums, but having a live band actively playing, manipulating the songs, adds so much more to the already-visceral lyrics.

On top of all of this is Mitski’s pure artistry with her music. Listening live was an entirely different experience as she twisted and changed the pacing of her songs to fit gracefully in the band’s playing— it’s not something that every musical act can get away with. You can tell she knows her songs and isn’t just regurgitating her studio recording for an audience. She’s performing, not only in her singing, but with choreography inspired by avant-garde Japanese dance, consisting of slow, controlled motions and statuesque poses. Each song had its own fitting choreography unique to its sound, making it nearly impossible to look away from her performance.

While her stage presence was undoubtedly entrancing, it involved very little attention paid to the audience. Some attendees of past tour dates complained about this, stating that they didn’t give them what they paid for, as people at the barricade weren’t met with sweeping high-fives or setlists thrown into the audience. The experience Mitski gives deviates from the norm. It’s an in-character performance, a recital of emotions.

Enter “Nobody.” One of her most popular songs, an upbeat and funky song with lyrics that sneak up on you with its meaning. They’re not covert in their description of Mitski’s loneliness and yearning for love, but the track has nonetheless secured its spot on the happiest of indie girl Spotify playlists. In her live performance, however, Mitski captured this desolate loneliness. She spun in circles, disoriented, through the last verse, consisting only of the word “nobody” over and over, until she was left in the center of the stage, all lights cut save for a single spotlight on her, standing alone with nobody around. Although I danced my way through this song, I felt that impactful end in my core.

“I Bet on Losing Dogs” had a similar effect. Sung while she was crawling on the stage, delivering heart-wrenching lyrics with moody blue-green lighting and reverbed guitar, the song hit like multiple devastating blows, yet I was still transfixed on her movements, unable to look away.

Later, in a very stark contrast, Mitski broke her ‘character,’ as she called it, to address the audience. She wanted to do something fun, she said: a sing-along. Her band began to play “Washing Machine Heart,” and everyone, including the grandma standing in front of me, was singing the first verse and doing matching body percussion to the beat of the song. While, at first, I was put off by this as it veered so far off of what Mitski normally does at shows, I hoped it was as sweet a moment for her as it was for me, or, at the very least, gave her a break for a minute during her performance.

Granted that this was a Mitski show, it would have been nearly impossible to have anyone leave with dry eyes. She made sure of this by saving the best (or, rather, the worst) for last, with her final song on the setlist being “A Pearl,” a slow, intense, two-and-a-half minute experience reflecting on being consumed and erased by your trauma. After leaving me—and Mitski Grandma— softly crying in the standing room area, Mitski decided that this wasn’t enough. With the encouragement of audience members demanding an encore, she delivered an aching “Two Slow Dancers.” All I can say is, thank God I’m in a healthy relationship, or I’m not sure I would have made it out alive.

Though I run the risk of sounding like a hyper-online 14-year-old by saying this, Mitski’s performance at the Anthem on Sunday reminded me of why I love seeing live music in the first place.

I left the Anthem a shell of the indie kid I once was, reeling in one of the most emotional shows I’d ever been to. As I made my way to the Metro back to College Park, I stumbled upon a person, in a homemade shirt with “MITSKI OWNS MY SOUL” scrawled across the front and back in Sharpie, openly dancing and loudly singing “The Only Heartbreaker” in the crowded station, and you could almost see the sheer joy radiating on the tired concertgoers and late-night commuters.