In a somewhat counter-intuitive way, collaborating with another artist is a bold act of confidence. One might think relinquishing some control to another person is a way of hedging bets, but it's quite the opposite. To collaborate is to say, "I am sure enough of my voice and my ability to shine even in the presence of an equally powerful talent." It can be quite cowardly to create alone.

The joining of Thao and Mirah is so exciting precisely because of how unique their voices and artistic visions are, and how harmoniously they unite. That another strong presence - Merrill Garbus of the brilliant tUnE-yArDs - is felt throughout Thao and Mirah's self-titled record, via co-production and some co-songwriting, makes the success of this balancing act all the more impressive.

Thao, along with her band, the Get Down Stay Down, errs more on the side of jittery, bluesy rock, to which her vocals are particularly suited. What it lacks in range, it makes up for in staccato emotion, always sounding tense or sultry or some intimidating combination of the two. Mirah's fluttery voice, on the other hand, is pristine and seemingly generated specifically to run free on the indie folk pastures.

"(Mirah and I) said, ‘What if we did a record?'" says Thao. "We just thought it would be rewarding to work on music that wasn't entirely our own, to sort of branch out, and to record a record casually. And it all turned out to be that way. It was less pressure, and it was very enjoyable. ... I loved the idea of sharing the spotlight. What it meant most to me was that I could relax more, and that someone else would shoulder half of the record-making and half of the live show. It's actually quite refreshing."

The duo's record, Thao & Mirah, released April 26 via Kill Rock Stars, comes out of the gate like a pistol with "Eleven." Clearly one of the more Garbus-influenced tracks, "Eleven" opens the record with clattering percussion, underwater handclaps and the rallying cry of "When love is love, don't let it go away." The energy "Eleven" brings to the table is felt like tremors throughout the rest of the album, making even the quietest folk moments exciting. It's never quite obvious when the other shoe will drop and that beat will kick back in.

"We had this idea that it would be quite fitting if Merrill produced a track and we wrote our parts over it," says Thao. "‘Eleven' is obviously different than what either of us would write. And I thought it was quite fitting and emblematic to have that song open the record."

Thao and Mirah more or less split writing duties on the record, each taking half the songs. And, while you can generally tell whose song is whose, it's admirable to note how they seem to meet each other as close to the middle as possible. Song by song, it may sound like Thao or Mirah, but it always sounds like Thao and Mirah, if you get my drift.

"I won't speak for Merrill or Mirah, but I learned (in this collaboration) to trust my instincts more, and to follow ideas as they come," says Thao. "I think it was a chance for both of us to expand on instrumentation, as far as what we play on records. I really wanted to play drums on this record, and I did for a few of my songs. And I think I learned how to soften and harden, as a performer."

This album can be said to be about that process, or that struggle, of softening and hardening - and of finding a balance between the two. There's a firm but gentle tug-of-war happening between two artists on this record, and the result is the elevation of them both.

Thao and Mirah

with Led to Sea
Monday, May 9, 8 p.m., $8
Northern, 321 Fourth Ave., Olympia