Pages tagged “low”

[Above: Thee Silver Mt. Zion]

Day 2 of ATP began with a scare: there was a rumor, spread over Blackberries and touch-and-go Internet access, that Kutsher's and the surrounding Catskills hotels near the festival site had severe bedbugs infestations. It was hard to determine which was scarier: the idea of carrying bedbugs back to our homes, or standing too close to the stage during Les Savy Fav's set.

After some time off spent funding the construction of a school in Kenya, Sub Pop vets and budding humanitarians Low have readied their Drums & Guns and will soon launch phase one of a two-prong attack on slowcore fans nationwide.

Kicking off in April, their tour will support the March 20 release of Drums & Guns, Low’s follow-up to 2005’s The Great Destroyer. Swedish labelmate Loney, Dear, whose debut LP hits stores February 6, will join Alan Sparhawk and company for four of their April shows.

Tour dates include:

2/15 London, England - The Spitz
2/16 Bruges, Belgium - Concertgebouw
4/6 New York, NY - Webster Hall
4/7 Somerville, MA - Somerville Theater
4/9 Philadelphia, PA - First Unitarian Church Sanctuary
4/10 Washington, DC - 9:30 Club
4/11 Cleveland Heights, OH - Grog Shop
4/12 Detroit, MI - Magic Stick
4/13 Chicago, IL - Metro
4/14 Minneapolis, MN - First Avenue
4/27 Somerset, England - Butlins Holiday Resort Minehead
4/28 Somerset, England - Butlins Holiday Resort Minehead
4/29 Somerset, England - Butlins Holiday Resort Minehead
6/13 Seattle, WA - Triple Door
6/14 Seattle, WA - Triple Door
6/15 Portland, OR - Doug Fir Lounge
6/16 Portland, OR - Doug Fir Lounge
6/19 San Francisco, CA - Great American Music Hall
6/20 San Francisco, CA - Great American Music Hall
6/22 Los Angeles, CA - Troubadour
6/23 Los Angeles, CA - Troubadour

Related links:
Low on MySpace
Low’s official site
Sub Pop Records
Loney, Dear’s official site
Loney, Dear on MySpace

Low gave Pitchforkmedia.com the lowdown on their upcoming LP, tentatively titled The Violent Path,which will be released on Sub Pop. This is the first album with new bassist Matt Livingston with production by Flaming Lip Dave Fridman, who also produced Low’s 2005 release The Great Destroyer.

Low will go on a short tour to support the album.

Tour dates:

December
5 - New York, NY - Bowery Ballroom
6 - New York, NY - Bowery Ballroom
8 - Chicago, IL - Old Town School of Folk Music *
9 - Minneapolis, MN - First Avenue

February
15 - London, England – Spitz
16 - Bruge, Belgium - Concertgebouw (Music in Mind Festival)

April
27-29 - Somerset, England - Butlins Minehead (All Tomorrow's Parties)

*with the Astronomer

Bassist Zak Sally has quit Low. Matt Livingston, who has performed with Low in the past in addition to frontman Alan Sparhawk's side project, Retribution Gospel Choir, will replace Sally.

Sally issued a statement concerning his bandmates and the future: "I sincerely hope that someday we can sit in the basement and make music together, but for now, there are more important things than music. On a personal level, I can't hope to express what the folks who have helped, supported, and listened during my 12 year tenure in Low have meant to me. This band has been my entire adult life, and I had a hell of a ride. Thanks for everything."

In response, Low issued a similarly amicable statement: "It is with sadness and regret that we have accepted Zak's resignation from Low. After 12 years together, we have a lot of great shared memories and musical moments. Zak's contributions to the band and his friendship have been invaluable, and we wish him and his family the best."

Low debuted its new lineup this weekend at Paste's Rock 'n' Reel festival in Decatur, Ga. The only other performance currently scheduled for the band this year will be in its hometown of Minneapolis on Dec. 9.

For more information, visit Low's official Web site at www.chairkickers.com

(Pictured above: Alan Sparhawk of Low)

Alan Sparhawk (Low, Black Eyed Snakes) and Mark Kozelek (Sun Kil Moon, Red House Painters) will join forces for a Fall 2005 tour. Longtime friends and musical compatriots, Sparhawk and Kozelek will be part of the The Retribution Gospel Choir, featuring Duluth, Minn., residents Eric Pollard on drums and Matthew Livingstone on bass.

Breaking from their respective traditions, The Retribution Gospel Choir will be a classic-rock band, performing covers ranging from the Rolling Stones and Neil Young to Pink Floyd, along with interpretations of Sparhawk and Kozelek’s own catalog.

In other news, Low has recently contributed a cover of “Nowhere Man” to Rubber Soul tribute album, This Bird Has Flown (out Oct. 25) and is readying a new EP for later this year. Also, Sun Kil Moon will be covering Neil Diamond’s “Kentucky Woman” on the charity EP, Songs From The Brown Hotel in conjunction with CIMS and Cameron Crowe’s new film Elizabethtown.

Retribution Gospel Choir Tour Dates:
8/30 – Lawrence, Kan. – Gaslight Tavern
8/31 – Denver, Colo. – Larimer Lounge
9/1 – Salt Lake City, Utah – Kilby Court
9/3 – Seattle, Wash. – Crocodile Café
9/4 – Portland, Ore. – Berbatis Pan
9/6 – San Francisco, Calif. – Bottom of the Hill
9/7 – Los Angeles, Calif. – Spaceland
9/8 – Costa Mesa, Calif. – Detroit
9/9 – Tempe, Ariz. – Stink Weeds
9/10 – Tucson, Ariz. – Plush
9/12 – Denton, Texas – Haileys
9/13 – Austin, Texas – Emo’s
9/14 – Houston, Texas – Mary Janes Fat Cat

“When we first started, we knew everyone was gonna hate it,” Alan Sparhawk sighs. “But if you believe in what you’re doing, then it’s OK if no one else gives a shit. It’s OK if you show up to play and everybody leaves.”

Sparhawk, the lead vocalist and songwriter for Duluth, Minn.’s Low (along with wife/percussionist Mimi Parker and bassist Zak Sally) may be a decade deep into a remarkably successful career, but he’s still surprised by Low’s unbroken reign as the go-to band for kids seeking layers of slow, gloomy drone. “If you had told me when we started that this would last 12 years, I would have laughed in your face,” he confesses.

Sparhawk’s humility is not entirely surprising: Critics have long wondered if Low’s self-ascribed limitations (album after album, the trio has plodded dutifully through thick, majestic “soundscapes”) have left the band creatively paralyzed, trapped by its now-iconic slo-mo restrictions. But 2005 has Low primed for a colossal reinvention: boldly adopting a new label, producer and a freshly tweaked sound.

Since 1993, Low’s desire to transgress its slo-core origins has been impressively steadfast, as the band gently modified its founding aesthetic, deviating from trudging, atmospheric lethargy just enough to persuade most nonbelievers. Low played a Halloween set in the frenzied, leg-kicking style of The Misfits in 1988, and in 1999, the band released a famed Christmas EP of up-tempo takes on holiday classics (the band’s version of “Little Drummer Boy” was featured prominently in a Gap commercial later that year). Low released its seventh full-length in January. The Great Destroyer, a tough, raucous rock record, instantly—and violently—distinguishes itself from the rest of Low’s terse, moping discography. Finally, Low fans have something to sing along to in their cars, bobbing their heads and pounding their steering wheels: The Great Destroyer is not the Low of yesteryear.

“After we made our first couple of records,” Sparhawk admits, “we recognized that [the Low aesthetic] was going to be something we would be leaning against for a long time. The Low sound, essentially, was built on rules—even before we had songs, we knew we wanted to play as slowly and as quietly as we could, and still have it sound like music. But we’ve always been pushing against those rules, and this time we finally thought, eh, let’s just do whatever we want. Let’s just see what these songs want to do.”

With its roaring mood swings (flitting incessantly from introspection to poppy sweetness to something awfully close to metal) and heavy guitar (witness, even classic solos!), The Great Destroyer is brave, brisk and transcendent—a fully realized, indignant hop away from all preconceived Low notions. Both Sparhawk and Parker are casual about the transition, understanding the album as only the most logical, organic step for the band. “It was just something that happened,” Parker shrugs. “There was no discussion, it was never ‘OK, we’re going to do this now.’ I think we’ve been hinting at it for a while.”

Certainly, dedicated fans will recognize traces of The Great Destroyer from previous Low tracks (the prophetic noodlings of “Canada,” from 2002’s Trust, or the leisurely pop of “Dinosaur Act,” plucked from 2001’s Things We Lost in the Fire). But Low’s recording habits have long belied a penchant for brash experimentation. Over the course of numerous releases, Low has tinkered with its genre-de½ning swells, investigating new and varied production techniques, opting to record both in shiny, professional studios (working with celebrity knob-twiddlers Steve Albini and Tchad Blake) and in the Sparhawks’ comparably modest Duluth home. “We’ve learned that limitations are what make interesting things happen,” Sparhawk explains. “Don’t feel like you need to go hi fidelity, Pro Tools, 80 tracks—I mean, there are great records that are made that way, but most of my favorite Low stuff was done on a four-track or an eight-track, where we really had to pare down what we were doing.”

For The Great Destroyer, Sparhawk—now freshly cleansed of inhibitions—decided to think big: “I realized I didn’t want to just go and make another Low record. I wanted do something I’d never done before. I wanted to go visit Phil Spector in jail, and have him record my record. From jail!”

Penitentiary aspirations grounded, Low opted for the next best thing: Flaming Lips/Mercury Rev producer Dave Fridmann, indie rock’s unassuming, reverb-pushing answer to Spector’s infamous dramatics. “With Dave, it was the first time someone had ever come in and said ‘Let’s try this song a little faster, let’s try a dižerent sound on the guitar here, let’s try something on the drums here.’ In the past, we’d mostly worked with people who just recorded what we did,” Sparhawk explains. Like Steve Albini?

“Yeah!” Sparhawk laughs. “Yeah. Steve’s great. You go in there, and it’s just you and your stupid songs and a really good engineer. But we wouldn’t have been able to do our first couple of records with Steve, because we were all, ‘Uh, I dunno, I just have these songs.’ We barely knew how to play. And then we went on and learned quite a bit, and now I wanted to work with someone who knows more than me. I wanted to work with the guy who recorded that stinking ‘Goddess on the Hiway’ song [by the Flaming Lips]! It never really hit me until I heard that song. I went, ‘Holy crap—we’ve got songs that are this good. Why don’t they sound like this?’”

“Dave wasn’t afraid to throw his two cents in, which was good,” Parker agrees. “We kind of need that sometimes—we’re the same three people, we get in ruts, we need someone to jostle the mix a little bit.”

Instead of dropping the completed tapes off at Kranky, Low’s label since 1997, the band took them to Seattle’s Sub Pop Records. The decision to split, Sparhawk emphasizes, was wholly amicable. “Kranky is a great label. They were fans of Low, and put out our records, and did a great job. But they were always like, ‘Look, we’re two guys here, and this is all we want to be. We’re not into glad-handling or buying ads in magazines. But if you ever want that, and a label comes along, go there.’ Eventually we started poking around, and before we know it we’re in L.A., meeting with a couple of big labels. We’ve been through that before—it’s like, ‘Thanks for lunch, buddy, but no.’ So the rumor got around, and Jonathan from Sub Pop called us. And we were like, ‘Great, Sub Pop, they have The Shins! Let’s go there!’”

“We’re happy with the change, and hopeful that things will be good there,” Parker adds. “We loved Kranky, so it wasn’t a falling out. It’s just that Sub Pop can ožer a different perspective.”

Besides being relentlessly pigeonholed for its sound, Low has endured much speculation about the band’s political and religious affiliations (both Alan and Mimi are practicing Mormons). The topic reached an uncomfortable apex in the German tour film Low in Europe, which traced Low’s stint as opening act for Radiohead’s 2003 European tour.

“It was really annoying, actually,” Sparhawk sighs. “We were in London around the time there were these huge, pre-Iraq-war protests. The whole city was flipping out. And the film became sort of political. It’s very well done, but it makes us look like fence-sitters. Because at the time it was kind of confusing—it was like, what’s going on? There was a time where it wasn’t quite so obvious; of course, a couple weeks later it became very obvious that it was totally f---ed up. But the film was shot in that in-between time, which completely sucks because I hate this administration. I think they’re the devil. It’s so sad to see this guy waving the flag in the name of Christianity, and it’s like, well, gee, Hitler was Christian, too.”

Sparhawk exhales slowly. “The thought of what could happen for the next four years is just too much to deal with. But I’ll do everything I can. If voting doesn’t make things better, I’ll do something else. We’re not all homeless and eating bagels like we were in the early ’80s.”

The members of Low have gone a long way using their library voices. Pick the stereotype of your choice to put the backstory behind the band’s characteristic subdued sound, whether a result of its members’ snowy Minnesota origins, their Mormon faith or the domestic bliss of husband/guitarist Alan Sparhawk and wife/drummer Mimi Parker. But none of the above can do the band’s elephantine tempo and church-whisper volume justice. It’s a sparse backdrop that gives every string-pluck and whisper the weight of a police siren.

But if modern art museums have taught me anything, it’s that you can have too much minimalism, and after ten years Low seems to have come to the same conclusion. To seemingly force its hand in this matter, the band hired producer Dave Fridmann, best known for his work on late orchestral-period Flaming Lips albums, to mind the microphones and switches for The Great Destroyer. Thus, Fridmann—much coveted for his trademark heavy drum sound and lush arrangements-is pitted against a drummer with a three-piece kit and a band known for taking the notes-not-played trope to heart. Indie fite!

Fortunately for Low, the ensuing sparks are hot enough to forge its finest album in years, an effort jarring in its departure from the band’s previous work (read: the purists will loathe it) but exposing hitherto unknown endowments unexplored under the usual formula. Fridmann juices Parker’s drums like a BALCO salesman and ramps up the noise by giving Sparhawk free reign to indulge his Neil Young fixation, raining down notes with a ferocious tone cribbed from “Cortez the Killer” bootleg jams.

Hence the album opens with very uncharacteristic laser-noise keyboards and tribal drums, and two songs later Parker sounds like she’s providing the beat by hitting trash cans with hockey sticks. Sparhawk gets more use out of his effect pedals than ever, wrenching out ghastly sheets of noise during “Everybody’s Song” and a tinnitus fuzz on “When I Go Deaf.” Fridmann even summons one of his canned orchestras for a track, the self-consciously titled “Cue the Strings.”

This almost confrontational nature permeates the album to the point where The Great Destroyer comes off like it’s the band’s almost-suicide note. After all, “When I Go Deaf” finds Sparhawk wistfully imagining that hearing loss will mean “I’ll stop writing songs,” and “Death of a Salesman” paints a vivid picture of a fanbase-induced musical rut, culminating in the popular guitar-burning imagery. Not exactly “(We’re an) American Band.”

So songs like “California” and “Walk Into the Sea,” by far the sunniest, poppiest material Low has ever produced, shatter the mopey mold the band has so carefully cultivated, and to thrilling results. Perhaps Low’s most characteristic element, the eerily-entwined harmonies of Sparhawk and Parker, surprisingly take on extra emotional weight in this new environment, as their voices strain engagingly to match the band’s newfound volume. No longer content to sedate, or to be the band with the most appropriate moniker ever, Low destroys itself only to rebuild, renovate and escape from the library.

When I first heard Low—specifically their 1995 sophomore release Long Division—I enjoyed their slow, minimal sound and pristine execution, but I wondered how long they could mine the same sonic territory without repeating themselves or painting themselves into a corner.

As it turns out, they’ve mined it longer and more effectively than I could have imagined seven years ago, as proved by Trust, their sixth full-length record.

Low’s trademark is languorous, clean, electric guitar, the intertwining vocals of husband-and-wife Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker, and mixes so sparse you could drive the Polyphonic Spree’s tour bus through them.

When the band hit the scene, they were often compared to others like Codeine and the Scud Mountain Boys who employed a similar slowed-down, minimal approach. Sparhawk once jokingly dubbed the genre "slowcore," and the label stuck.

Low’s previous album, Things We Lost in the Fire, found the band pushing the boundaries of their self-imposed sound, with additional musicians, left-of-center production choices and a few tempos above their usual crawl.

Trust, by contrast, finds the band consolidating its strengths to great effect, spending most of its time exploring the gorgeous, crystalline minimalism it does best. But by now, the approach sounds less like a gimmick and more like the only way these songs should properly be played.

"John Prine," a song about failure and revenge, builds to a chorus of "sha-la-las" sung against the backdrop of a single guitar. The song requires and then rewards the listener’s full attention with a shattering emotional impact.

The "La La La Song," in keeping with its name, hits the ear as a happy-go-lucky tune, complete with handclaps and a major-key melody. But the lyrics reveal the happiness as cold irony: "All these years you’ve been speaking without breathing / spinning closer to the sun / had your way with an unsuspecting public / little threads are all it takes / la la la la"

Like Pedro The Lion, a band with whom it toured, Low begins with a religious point of view (Sparhawk and Parker are Mormons) and uses it to explore the implications of that perspective, including the dark side of human nature.

"Canada," one of the album’s few up-tempo tracks, uses America’s northern neighbor as a metaphor for man’s inability to take anything out of this life. "You can’t take that stuff to Canada," Sparhawk sings over an insistent, fuzz-bass riff.

Trust isn’t an album for every occasion, especially not the next party or family gathering. It doesn’t have a particularly good beat, and you can’t dance to it. But for those who enjoy the deliberate approach of bands like Sigur Rós (which owes a lot to Low) and for those who appreciate songs of unsparing emotional honesty, Trust is worth seeking out.