Low / Divide And Dissolve (live at The Trinity)

Bristol
30 April 2022

There is a definite aura of devotion around The Trinity this evening. The old church is hosting a band that boasts a devoted following, some attendees having trekked around after them since their first appearance in the UK back in 1994. While undertaking their world tour, Low have chosen to invite friends and young firebrands Divide And Dissolve as support, which is a homecoming of sorts for the Melbourne-based duo as their latest album comes out on Invada.

The dry ice-soaked red lights on stage help with the air of reverence and the duo arrive fresh-faced and grinning to a keen response. I really wasn’t sure what to expect, but after laying down some jazzy alto sax loops that brought to mind the meandering melancholy of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, guitarist Takaiya Reed straps on her axe and draws forth squalls of deep feedback that immediately had our clothes and hair vibrating.

The guitar moves sluggishly and desperately while Sylvie Nehill‘s drums are insistent and impenetrable, attempting to hold the guitar by the scruff of the neck and prevent it from leaping into the crowd as it fizzes and growls, dark and dominant. Drums grow busier, but maintain their steady course as the guitar insists on one chord or two, slashing the heads of the audience. We watch as an almost empty plastic bottle dances across the stage and Takaiya’s sax case makes a break for it.

Both artists are of ethnic minority descent and the burning issue of injustice is part of what makes the duo tick and causes the long distended pieces to burn. Eyes are clasped shut as the sax loops are flooded with Earth tones, ecstatic yet measured chord strikes send shivers through clothes and skin and time becomes a crawl as each cymbal slash and drum crack pierces the air above us. Takaiya’s engagement with the audience and willingness to express herself honestly wins the duo many fans as the lava-like colours of the lights match the molten flow emanating from the stage.

At times, there is a feeling that they travel a similar path to Godspeed, using heavy, distorted layers to paint a picture of a possible utopia, but one for which we are forced to fight. The duo’s power and vibrations cause little paper streamers to fall from hidden recesses in the ceiling and there was something rather touching about that; and without any doubt they acquitted themselves perfectly, leaving the audience warmed up just right.

Now Low must be on the of the few groups that can follow anybody and have nothing to fear from even the fiercest of support acts, such is the affection that they engender. Onto a sparsely decorated stage in front of their hanging display of fluorescent tubes, Mimi Parker and Alan Sparhawk step with new bassist Liz Draper, fresh from Portaliii and bringing a certain style.

Al looks like a wildman while Mimi and Liz look sedate, dressed all in black. They launch straight into the AM dial guitar distortion of new album opener “White Horses”, its rhythmic hesitancy swathed in harsh electronic scurf that makes it seem as though an invisible being is attempting to play Al’s guitar from behind his back.

It is a total mystery how he wrestles these alien noises from an electric guitar, but when they sweep into the relative gentleness of “I Can Wait”, Mimi and Al’s two voices meshing in that way which only they can conjure, and I think this is the crux of their enduring popularity; that ability to be both the same and yet different every time. The magical but unusual harmony of the two voices and the sedate rhythms against which they set them are always at odds with the progressive guitar atmospheres and playful electronic barrages that they unleash, and we can only hope that it never ends.

They have decided to play all the way through the new album and then trawl back for a few favourites, so the queasy Eric Chenaux–like dusky soundscape of “All Night” barges into the radiation-infected “Disappearing”. After so many years, this mix of evolution and familiarity really takes the audience with them and they are truly gripped.

The voices resonate and linger as always, but the textured guitar and bass restlessly search for fresh expression; tribal beats over liminal soundscapes stretching and distorting, slipping in and out of view. “Days Like These” elicits a thrill, Mimi’s voice so heavenly, that vibrato just perfect, the guitar surging from fragile to volcanic in one easy step. Considering the languid pace and experimental nature, nobody’s attention wavers.

There is an emotional little speech from Al, recalling their first trip to the UK back in 1994 and other comments hint at a touch of guilt-ridden history which is something else that endears him to the audience. When they launch into the poignant “Price You Pay”, their ability to inexorably build tension is unsurpassed. Somehow, they manage to inject more power when necessary; but also there is great restraint and it is a unique mix.

The red light explosion of guitar stress that opens Ones And Sixes favourite “No Comprende” is eye-opening and after a little audience interaction, they crack into “Sunflower”, which they manage to refresh with some real playfulness. The skeletal “Back Of The Bus” song relies on that odd mix of Al’s falsetto and Mimi’s warmth, and here they indulge in the classic quiet-loud dynamic.

The heavy distorted electronic bass of “Monkeys” from The Great Destroyer elicits a roar from the appreciative crowd, the overloaded monolith lurching into our faces. It is a far cry from the Velvet Underground indie pop of “What Part Of Me”, and their ability to swing through the ages, urging the audience along, can’t help but cause a smile. They also know when to overwhelm a familiar song and this draws them finally into the beautiful, heartbreaking mantra of C’mon‘s’ “Nothing But Heart”, which just builds and builds and builds and builds as the hall fills with the most joyful of noise.

The group shuffle off to a rapturous applause and a few minutes respite from the emotion before returning for an encore of Secret Name‘s’ “Two-step”, which just has the throng in the palm of their hands. Incredibly, the lights come on and we realise that this has been going on for over two hours and still they want to play one more, which bursts through the now brightly lit room with a cacophonous guitar solo.

Low are an overwhelming and exhilarating experience that never for a second out stays its welcome, and after nearly thirty years of progress, they can still slay a room. I am already waiting for the next time.

-Words: Mr Olivetti-
-Pictures: Michael Rodham-Heaps-