Mitski's "Indefinite" last performance | Hollywood Palladium

by Jessica Romoff

A swarm of bleached bangs, magenta dead ends, mary janes, drugstore lip gloss on eyelids, a fistful of plush sparkle cowboy hats, bitten nails and scissor cut Be The Cowboy t-shirts flood the Hollywood Palladium entrance. Everyone seems to know each other in line for tickets: someone in a berry velvet dress shouts across to the other line, “Hey! I think I follow you on my Mitski fan page!” a group in the back hollers to the front, a chorus of “Whoa, I had no idea you liked Mitski too!” beamed from the lines. 

In June, Mitski declared that she would be taking a break from touring “indefinitely.” So ultimately, this will be her last Los Angeles show “indefinitely,” and Mitski did not disappoint.

Without doubt, Mitski’s music is so much more than a gushing diary entry with a pair of vocal chords, or a soundtrack you cry to, in your bedroom alone. Her music is a mosaic of unvarnished confession, unapologetic unraveling, literary beauty and blasphemy. She unites the vulnerable shards of each listener. 

On stage at the Hollywood Palladium, soaked in rose and lavender light, in knee pads and ballet slippers, Mitski is meditative: she walks persistently in the same circle, robotically shifting a wrist, bending her kneck. The only thing onstage accompanying her besides her band is a wooden table, which she turns into a dancing partner. With the table, Mitski jumps atop, seeks shelter behind, ignores completely, somersaults over, leans on for support. Her voice is both crisp and soft, like the sound of butter hitting a sizzling pan. It is fleeting and fluttering, a butterfly escaping the tack and matt.