Mirah’s Musical Biology Class
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

Insects and Eastern European musical flavors haunt the latest, and in many ways most accomplished, album from Mirah Yom Tov Zeitlyn — best known simply as Mirah. “Share This Place: Stories and Observations,” out now on K Records, isn’t much of a departure for Ms. Zeitlyn, whose previous six albums gorgeously fluttered through a variety of styles, subjects, and moods. What elevates “Share This Place” is the way she and her collaborators, credited as Spectratone Internationale, create such a supple, sophisticated, and nuanced singular universe. The album’s 12 tracks form a song cycle about insects that is greatly inspired by the writings of the 19th-century French writer and naturalist Jean-Henri Fabré.
The album alluringly creates an intoxicating world, where Ms. Zeitlyn sings stories about “Luminescence,” the “Gestation of the Sacred Beetle,” and even a “Love Song of the Fly.” It’s exactly the sort of surprising, lovely, and eclectic music her fans have come to expect. Of course, her work has never adhered to any sort of boilerplate “indie rock” sound, despite her reputation.
“It’s interesting, because I’m associated with indie-rock because of my other work and because of K Records, [and] it can seem weird. ‘There’s oud [a pear-shaped, stringed instrument similar to a lute]? Oh my god. What unusual instrumentation,'” Ms. Zeitlyn said over the phone from her home in Portland, Ore., bridling at her interviewer’s admiration for the versatile musical tapestries knitted together on “Share This World” with accordion, cello, percussion, and the aforementioned oud. Ms. Zeitlyn’s voice, light and airy in song, is just as blithely expressive in conversation, and she doesn’t hide her exasperation at trying to pinpoint her style.
“But then it’s, like, there’s like 1,000 years of history of oud music being played and it wouldn’t be considered ‘unusual instrumentation’ if you’re — ” she pauses, searching for the right word before shrugging it off with a dismissive, “yeah.”
So don’t try to lump “Share This Place” in with all those other accordian-cello-oud-and-percussion albums about insects. Especially since those insects are what got “Share This Place” started in the first place. Cellist Lori Goldston and accordionist Kyle Hanson, co-founders of the Black Cat Orchestra, worked with Ms. Zeitlyn for 2004’s political song cycle, “To All We Stretch the Open Arm.” As they searched for another project on which to work with Ms. Zeitlyn, Ms. Goldston and Mr. Hanson formed Spectratone Internationale with the percussionist Jane Hall and the oud player Kane Mathis. All they needed was a subject.
“I was just kind of on an insect research kick and it just sort of took root,” Ms. Goldston said over the phone from her home in Seattle. “I think that it had to do with having a really small baby at the time and being stuck in one place. I think I was just sitting still more than usual in my yard in the summer and just watching more than I have the opportunity to do.”
A large part of that research included Fabré’s writings, which Ms. Goldston passed along to the other players and Ms. Zeitlyn as background. The group worked on music — sometimes complete songs, often merely a few motifs and song sketches — that were forwarded to Ms. Zeityln as ideas. Then the arrangements were sculpted, and soon a rich landscape of music emerged.
Ms. Goldston’s cello shirks the usual Ravel-like romantic-if-melancholy lines in favor of rhythmic bowing that also molds the melody (as in “My Lord Who Hums”) or providing a subtle, mood-setting pulse behind the oud and accordion (as in “Song of Psyche”). Such subtle, effective moments recur throughout the album. Ms. Goldston said she owes her cello’s chameleon-like voice to the fact that she started out playing the guitar, whose driving polyphony “just sort of crept in,” she said.
“I’ve played in a lot of situations and I’ve done a lot of experimental stuff, so genre lines are naturally very blurry for me,” she said. So if I’m backing up a pop band I’ll do all sorts of weird squeaky sounds — just whatever seems appropriate.”
These textural accents are all done very tastefully. Nothing about the songs feels gimmicky or infelicitous. “Share This Place” is basically a concept album — albeit one that feels more like Vashti Bunyan and Van Dyke Parks exploring contemporary Balkan folk music than a gatefold album with Roger Dean cover art.
Holding it all together is Ms. Zeitlyn’s luminous voice and beguiling lyrics, which seamlessly and sincerely explore the inner life of insects — such as a dung beetle corralling its dinner in “My Prize” or the deft explanation of a firefly’s light in “Luminescence” with the coy, “Don’t need a reason.”
“I got a big stack of books from the library and I signed on because it seemed like I could really learn something,” Ms. Zeitlyn said with a gregarious laugh. “And it seemed like, ‘Wow I can write songs about beings other than myself? This is awesome. It’s not all about me?'”
She means that in earnest. Ms. Zeitlyn said that what she enjoys about collaborations is the way the process opens her craft to new ideas, both musical and lyrical.
“I feel like I have a pretty good handle on songwriting and singing, but in terms of musical instrument playing I’m fairly limited, so it benefits me greatly,” she said. “It’s totally inspiring and exciting to work with people who are masters at their quote-end-quote ‘unusual instruments’ because I love music and I love sound, and that’s what helps me write and helps me open my mouth and get something out of it.”
Just remember: Don’t fence her in.
“It’s kind of funny, people’s responses to the fact that it’s insects — like, ‘Why?'” she said. “‘Why did you choose insects?’ I can’t believe it! When really it’s like, do I have to write another love song? There’s just so many interesting things in the world that it seems funny that we all have collectively agreed that all songs should be about falling in love or breaking up. You know? Like, hey, live a little. Try some insects.”