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To put Mitski into words is to befriend frustration. Despite typifying the “sad girl” genre, her music ventures beyond simple dolor. Her lyrics are jewels of precision and candor, rotating emotions under a glass eye and catching their nuances under the light.
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Though it may seem a peculiar choice alongside such emotional themes, Mitski lacquers the whole album with a glittery sheen of ’80s synth-pop.
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“Working for the Knife” may be short and bittersweet, but it leaves a lasting impression, a delicate sadness that washes over you for more than just a fleeting moment.
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Mitski sat in the chair behind the desk, as one would expect — but she also sat on top of the desk, lay down on the desk, stood on the desk, turned the desk on its side.
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Mitski’s show Saturday night at The Warfield in San Francisco was a perfect reflection of her musical ethos — her unabashed refusal to hide her personality while performing made for an intimate yet distant experience that mesmerized her die-hard audience.
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These give the album its light, pop feel. All these things culminate to help Mitski reach far past the sounds that launched her into stardom.
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