The Japanese-American musician has been writing self-examining indie-pop for ten years. Her songs are often short and poignant, rarely lasting over three minutes. While Mitski’s early work meshed distortion with drumbeats, her latest offerings are synth-heavy meditations. Recently she’s exploded in popularity, with her songs going viral on social media platforms like TikTok. She’s now earned the kind of audience that yells, “I love you!” between songs and waits outside in the cold for hours just to see her. These interjections seemed crude, however, juxtaposed with the kind of show Mitski puts on.

From the moment she walked on stage, there was the distinct atmosphere of watching a play. Mitski looks out into the audience, but she does not speak to them. There is no banter between songs. Only a brief, completely dark pause. Her face displays different emotions for each song — at times longing — other times fierce. Mitski dances with choreography that’s both expressive and abstract. During “Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart” she plays with a paper airplane, then throws it into the crowd. Occasionally, she rolls around on the stage, or mimes knocking on a door. During “Working for the Knife,” she uses the microphone as a prop pretending to slit her own throat.

Mitski has been known as many things; but not a performer. After her TikTok success, Mitski was aligned with the new genre called “sad girl” sound. It’s a vague amorphous collection of female musicians that make downbeat music. “Sad girl” includes Phoebe Bridgers, Clairo, Lana Del Rey, Lorde, and even Taylor Swift. Interpreting Mitski as sad music isn’t entirely false, but it is overly simplistic. To think of Mitski as a perpetually crying, hopelessly devoted blank canvas is to strip her music of artistic value. This interpretation positions Mitski not as an artist, but as a conduit. When we cast aside Mitski’s performance abilities, this is not only a disservice to her, but to ourselves.

Case in point; Mitski’s voice. There is no one who sings quite like Mitski. Her voice swells with every word, creating the kind of transference actors spend years perfecting. During “I Will,” when she warbled “All I want is / Always you / It’s always you,” there was a collective crescendo. It felt as if everyone wanted so deeply, the word “always” was not enough. This is the spellbinding quality at the heart of Mitski’s success; resonance. Fans may be deemed silly for responding so deeply to songs written by someone they don’t know, but that is just a testament to Mitski’s gifts.

At the night’s end, the spell breaks. Mitski speaks for the first time, saying, “Thank you. I love you. Goodnight, stay safe.” Then she runs backstage. The audience erupts into cheers.