Music > Live Reviews

Low

Norwich Arts Centre

07/12/16

Truth be told, on the morning of the 1st of December I wasn’t feeling that Christmassy. This may have been due in part to the lack of an advent calendar in my life, but was probably more to do with the slowly gestating virus that was living in my tummy and would, over the next few days, come to full fruition and regularly empty me of any and all nutrients by any route available. This is also why my review is a little late. However, I didn’t know this at the time.

That said, I had a little tickle of Christmas cheer when I found that Low would be performing their unlikely 1999 Christmas album in full. I say “unlikely” because Low do not produce a sound that one would necessarily describe as full of Christmas cheer. The album, though, was a surprise success, and brought them their first mainstream exposure when its version of Little Drummer Boy was adopted for a Gap commercial. But more of this later.

I arrived at a sold-out Arts Centre just as support Erik Koskinen was taking the stage. Koskinen’s guitar-accompanied Americana folk is not exactly my thing, but his set was a charming and witty start to the evening. At times a foot-stomping troubadour and at others a somnambulistic Lou Reed, Koskinen has a lot going for him, not least of which are his beautiful, gutsy voice and dry wit, the latter being shared with us in extended between-song chats. Anyway, whether it’s my thing or not, it was certainly a-lot-of-people-here’s thing, and it was good to see that the majority of the sell-out crowd turned up to see him play.

Reviewing Low is, I have discovered, very difficult. And not just because of the shits. This is because their sound is built on such extremes and contradictions that any adjective is arguably applicable to them. Doomy? Indeed. Uplifting? Yep. Desperate? For sure. Hopeful? Tick. Ethereal? Uh huh. Rubbish? No, not that one, but you get my point. However, the dynamic range of Low’s sound is its most remarkable aspect, spanning as it does extremes of expression and urgency. Low don’t so much play their instruments as caress them into life. Mimi Parker’s minimalist drum-kit is wire-brushed and felt-beaten, and Alan Sparhawk’s guitar is coaxed with lugubrious thumb strokes. Yet, at times, Low slowly ascend to peaks of such sonic intensity that the shaking air rattles your kidneys and makes your nose itch. And holding it all together are Parker and Sparhawk’s beautifully precise vocal harmonies - arguably the foundation of Low’s sound. It’s really quite breath-taking, and at its best, such as during their cover of Lennon’s Happy Christmas, it’s throat-achingly moving.

Low, it seems, abhor finality. Songs fade on unresolved chords, soundscapes that appear to be leading us to another peak abruptly end, revealing themselves to be short tone poems. Most incredible, though, is the feeling that even when they seem to be coming unhinged, when the air is shaking and the histrionics flowing, that they’re still holding back, still exerting some sort of fingernail control over the noise. There are many erotic aspects to Low’s music, but this tantric surging and retreating is the most affecting.

So, in all a remarkable gig. But after it all, if I’m absolutely honest, I still didn’t feel that Christmassy.