“Feeds my passion for transcendence/Turns my water into wine,”‘ sings Mimi Parker on “Holy Ghost,” the fourth track on The Invisible Way, and if I had to sum up my own reaction to this album, I could not have put it better.
Low are a band that have been making music together in various configurations since 1993, Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker being the cohesive force behind the changing line-up. Veterans of live performance, they have supported both Radiohead and Swans, among many others. In this time they have released a veritable slew of recordings, all of which being characterised by their uncompromisingly low-key sound with strong emphasis on the vocal. It is unsurprising, bearing in mind that the founding members are married to each other and have been for a while, that they make stunning harmonies. Lyrically, their Mormon faith appears from time to time, but there is such a melancholic, aching realism to their songs as to transcend even religion. These are songs of humanity, raw and real and full of pain. And love.
The Invisible Way is a Low album in every sense: it fits into the catalogue. From the opening track – “Plastic Cup,” it feels like I know this music, it feels familiar, sounds right to my ears. I can feel the past and the influences (I hear Donovan, Joni Mitchell, Cowboy Junkies – and all that that in itself encompasses. I could list them all, but shan’t), they bubble to the surface for sure, but there is more to it than even that. It is a kind of now-ness, a real-time recognition of something true. This is beautiful music. The themes are sometimes weird and sometimes really very, very sad. “Plastic Cup”‘s story of the archaeology of the sample pot opens out to a soaring harmonious loop, raising its status above the supposed banality of its subject matter. The penultimate “On My Own” is a jaunty hymn to the self-destructive power of the ego, building to a slow grinding of guitar noise, jangling piano and the refrain “Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday,” which is both wondrous and spine-tingling. It would be easy to say that Low write simple songs, and the melodies on this record have simplicity. This album is possibly the simplest yet. It is very pared-down, sparse, and that sparseness leaves space for engaging with the music: it allows you to really pay attention. The notes are lovely; gently layered guitars, sweetly sung harmonies in lilting alto voices, the subtle interjection of piano. The best example being on the song I quoted at the start, the mournful refrain of joyful regret; “Holy Ghost” is simultaneously sad and uplifting, with the exquisitely effortless lyric and guitar punctuated by a solitary drum beat, knocking out the beat of life itself; and again within the driving melody and excruciating sadness of “Just Make it Stop’. Indeed the beauty of these songs is the way even the saddest lyric carries the uplifting sense of hope. Lyrically there is a lot going on, and I could expound on the profoundly philosophical bent, from the title through to the poetry of each song. But that would be to miss what I see as the most significant aspect of The Invisible Way – because where it is spare, it is expansive, open, and ultimately transcendent. Maybe it’s just the acoustic sound, but after a month of listens I think I know better. It is the sounds between the notes, the spaces in between the sadnesses, like the minuscule break between the in-breath and the out that adds a Zen quality to this music. I’ve felt it before, and I think it is a sign of a band that are at home with themselves. They have found their peace.The Invisible Way isn’t going to change the game; it isn’t that kind of music. It is an album to listen to because you really like music, and you like how it feels to let go and be taken along the road once in a while.
-Arwen Xaverine-
