Low - The Great Destroyer
Music Review by Monte Holman
(Sub Pop Records)
Snore-core Startled From Slumber
Guitar solos. Feedback. Screeching distorted vocals. Hand claps? These rock staples hardly come to mind when we consider the collaborative effort from Alan Sparhawk, Mimi Parker, and Zak Sally. What happened to our wholesome quiet-types, the musicians who draw silent crowds of earnest indie concert-sitters? Has Low found the devil?
With The Great Destroyer, their debut Sub-Pop release, Low generously give us thirteen tracks of sonic exploration. This is seemingly new ground for Low, though they aren't reinventing themselves completely. Fans will still find plenty of the old stuff in this album, the familiar instrumental sparseness, the velvet, marital harmonies ("Silver Rider," "Death of a Salesman"). But the Duluth trio adds a keyed-up electro layer and some fresh production elements to these songs, generating a recording that's nothing short of rock and roll.
The supplementary noise and urgency comprised in Destroyer obviously contradict Low's original intent: let's see how quiet we can be. So why break the pattern? Is the band headed in a new direction down the fatal path toward experimental obscurity? I don't think so. Rather, Low have a sense of humor; after all, this is a band who once played a set in character as the Misfits. So a big rock album from this band is actually pretty funny. Also in Destroyer, the band members toy with the reputation of being calm, honest folk; they lean toward the dark side. Basically, in Destroyer, Low gets louder, darker, and blithely introspective in order to continue to break new ground as a group. Quite an endeavor that will surely receive some negative criticism, but not from me. In short, it works.
Low good-naturedly mock themselves and their public perception by folking-up some of Destroyer's tracks. Low is famously quiet, unassuming, earthy even, and they exploit these traits. Examples of self-parody show in somber, heartfelt questions like "So what, pray tell, will save you now?" in "Cue the Strings" and "Where is the laughter?" in "Broadway (So Many People)." Earnest questions, yes—Low is beautiful, poignant, emotive—but on Destroyer, this seriousness is somewhat playful. Images of the Garden of Eden, children, and Noho crowds (all from the same song, "Broadway") suffocate us with innocence, sincerity, and dangerously stale subject matter. The song eventually drowns in ethereal ambiance. Low reinstate what they know, or are known for, with these images embedded in charming harmonies, and they proceed to rub some dirt on their squeaky-clean image.
"Monkey," the album's opener, jolts listeners with a fuzzy synth bass line that sets the tone for the record as darker and more demanding. Lyrics like "tonight you will be mine / tonight the monkey dies" announce the commanding nature of Destroyer. Another line in this one is "shut up and drive." Not the Low we know. "When I Go Deaf" (in the middle of which a wicked shredding, yes a wicked shredding, guitar solo tells everyone to fuck off) upholds the darker disposition of this record and the band members’ sense of humor. And frankly, it kicks ass. Then there's "Everybody's Song." Sparhawk and Parker fling their vocals into a Yorke-esque tantrum of repetition atop crunchy power chords and a metallic snare.
Low broaden their lascivious relationship with rock in Destroyer by exploring production ploys. They dapple this record with meticulous pans, fades, distortions, and soundscapes. This experimentation energizes Low's song-writing equations, breathes a new life into their craft, and emphasizes the interplay between lyrics and instruments. The dynamic crescendo in "Pissing" utilizes feedback and warm keys. The percussion in "Walk Into the Sea" features xylophones and bells chiming along with some far-off torn toms. And smallish additions, such as the dance club heartbeat and sonar pinging on "Cue the Strings," not to mention the looped strings themselves, revitalize the touching folk arrangements we expect from Low.
Speaking of smallish, the band takes chances with production kitsch in "Step." A child co-voices, not quite verbatim, two lines, "All the kids are sleeping / silent dreams beneath their heads," the only place on the record a child's voice can be heard perceptibly. (The child is the daughter of Sparhawk and Parker, Hollis Mae, who can be seen smartly signing records with heart-dotted i's on a link from Sub Pop’s website.)
Naysayers write-off Low's higher blood pressure and in-studio production antics as out of character and perhaps the beginning of an aging group's backslide. But that's simplification, and it fails to give a solid band the credit earned over twelve years of successful writing. Why should a band continuously be judged by old standards? Yes, overproduction litters most records, but Low totes discretion. They meticulously consider each string pluck and ride hit on past recordings. They take seriously the business of what belongs in a song, and it's no different with Destroyer. The production schemes here are interesting, and they sit precisely where they need to—if they were too subtle, Low wouldn't be trying anything new; if they were anymore obvious, they’d be annoying.
That's what makes this a truly great Low album: it encompasses the original band aesthetic, empty space and gravity, and adds more completely what the band members bring to the table: a wink, a nudge, and rock and roll. Consider the band members' side projects. Destroyer is more inclusive of what these musicians are capable of. The new Low record is a bit raucous, so what? It's got plenty of that celestial appeal we're used to, but this time around it's packaged more like the Hell's Angels.
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