Sub Pop
There is often a sense of familiarity with Low albums. To a certain extent there exists a feeling that we have come to know what to expect when a new album drops. With Low’s twelfth full-length release, however, they have probably done the most that they can or have ever tried to do to cover the trail that the last twenty-five years has left.
There have been precedents; the in extremis minimalism of The Exit Papers EP or 2007’s awkward and beat heavy Drums And Guns, or even the all-out noise of The Great Destroyer, but on Double Negative‘ the effect is polarising. It will either have listeners putting their fingers in their ears and running for a copy of C’mon or embracing the experiments with open arms, thrilled that the band have the audacity to mess with preconceptions in such a courageous yet devilish way.
There were a couple of clues dropped on 2015’s Ones & Sixes, particularly the distorted and tremulous opening track “Gentle”, but here “Quorum” will send the unwary listener diving for the stereo controls. Alan Sparhawk‘s voice sounds distorted and drifting, and the bass sounds as though it is in another room (or another building) and the doors are being opened and closed at regular intervals. It is disorientating and perplexing, but when the effects are removed, you realise that underneath all the trickery there is still a lovely, simple Low song and that is one thing that will never disappear.
It is almost impossible to work out the words on “Tempest”, Alan’s vocal having been attacked with a device similar to that used on Bon Iver‘s last album, the bass and piano are wickedly distorted and the speakers seem to be full of water. As it plays on, you know there is a song in there somewhere, stuck and gradually being destroyed. The song does appear briefly, hazy and weightless, but it can’t last and is submerged once again. On further listens, the last Bon Iver album is quite a good comparison, but if anything Low have attacked the idea with even greater gusto. One track feels as though the group is playing just for you on a yacht somewhere. You and the band are bobbing gently but as they play, all around are depth charges going off at rhythmic intervals, flooding your ears and causing the sound to drop away. It is a beautiful song that is relentlessly overwhelmed by sheer noise until it and everything else is sunk.
The volume is re-engaged for the last two tracks; gothic, heavy and purposeful, ‘Rome (Always In The Dark)” seems intent on breaking heads, the guitar is distorted and Alan’s voice sounds as if he is gurgling, struggling for breath. The anger is evident here, and reluctantly makes way for the speaker-bursting rhythm of final track “Disarray”, a sad tale sweetly delivered by the line “graduated to the back of the bus”. There is a sense that however pleasantly the lyrics could be delivered and however uplifting Alan’s little trills, the feelings are still the same. It is a bittersweet ending to what I consider may well be a career high.
-Mr Olivetti-