LOW
The Great Destroyer
Sub Pop
· An album of firsts.
From the beginning, calling Low a rock band made for an awkward fit. At an often glacial pace, at times more in service of atmosphere than songs, Low have carved out one of the past decade's most impressive catalogues. It's become hard to imagine anyone else pulling off such stubborn, patient beauty.
For The Great Destroyer, however, Low have made a surprise move from their long-term label Kranky (known more for experimental drone than typical bands) to Seattle's Sub Pop, and retreated to producer Dave Fridmann's (Flaming Lips, Mercury Rev, Mogwai) studio in the Catskills. They re-emerged with an album encapsulating everything they're great at, showing off some new sonic tricks under Fridmann's mad-wizard hand and, in the process (strange as it sounds), rocking.
It all opens with Fridmann's patented cavernous drums and the fuzz-bass-led strum of "Monkey," then straight into "California," easily their most radio-friendly moment (even though the song is about moving one's farm to warmer climes, it's got a killer riff and beat you can dance to). Elsewhere, Low sound downright scary. Always masters of menacing build, here they occasionally get nasty.
Don't fret. Low are still the masters of melancholic pop. "Cue The Strings" floats atop a lovely, blurred minor key, while "Step" jogs along like a "Seasons In The Sun" rewrite that’s just as hard to get out of your head (and doubly as fun thanks to those driving handclaps). "Walk Into The Sea" takes things towards Motown, all echo, reverb and movement, Mimi Parker cooing in the background.
Yet it's The Great Destroyer's most minimal moments that are also the finest – the strummed solo on acoustic "Death of a Salesman" sees Alan Sparhawk crooning, "So I took my guitar/and I threw down some chords/And some words I could sing without shame." In just over two minutes Sparkhawk perfectly captures the desire to create, snuffed out in the name of responsibility, and it's heart-stoppingly good.
To say The Great Destroyer hasn't been prophesized in baby steps over Low's past two albums would be a lie – most definitely in 2002's Trust it has. However, given last autumn's clearing-the-decks rarities box-set collection A Lifetime of Temporary Relief, a short stadium tour opening for Radiohead in the U.S., and the ease with which one can imagine the likes of "California" making its way onto the airwaves at large, it's the first step into a grand new direction.
A friend once described listening to Low in his car as like driving to a funeral. The Great Destroyer feels like packing everything up and moving someplace new – perhaps "California" where it's warm – as scary, exciting, sexy and life-affirming an experience as can be.
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