I am still processing my grief at the recent passing of Low, whom I have previously argued was secretly the most Mormon band to ever exist, in all the best ways possible. I am doing what I can to complete the mourning process. Yes, time heals all wound, but as Low also knew so well, time is the great destroyer.
I have been asked on rare occasion where to begin with Low, because despite their reputation for being so slow and minimal, their discography is astonishingly vast, diverse, and restless. Indeed, each of their records has its own unique personality. For the curious, here’s a basic run-down of each of their albums, so you can decide for yourself if and where to start:
I Could Live In Hope (1994). In a word: Monochromatic. The black-and-white of their first video (not to mention the album cover itself) is indicative of the record as a whole, wherein Low had established its minimalist ethos, but had yet to stray from their strict, austere formula. Hence, all the songs here start to sound the same after awhile; gorgeous songs for sure, but still interchangeable. The sort of LP that you listen to alone in the dark–or perhaps with a single candle. The album finishes with perhaps the saddest cover of “You Are My Sunshine” ever. But, the album also open with the gorgeous “Words,” which was happily the true harbinger of their music to come. Highlights: “Words,” “Cut,” “Lullaby,” “Sea,” “Sunshine.”
Long Division (1995). In a word: Distinct. Low grows from being a mere Grunge reactionary to a distinct musical entity unto itself. Their opener “Violence” (violence being a theme they would return to repeatedly throughout their career) features Low already mapping out the possibilities for joy and euphoria present within minimalism and melancholy. It was on this album album that Low not only embraced the silence between notes, but began to stake out their own space within it. Highlights: “Violence,” “Shame,” “Caroline,” “Throw Out The Line.”
Transmission (EP) (1996). In a word: Allusive. (Or is it elusive?) Low wears their influences on their sleeve with a slow-tempo cover of Joy Division’s “Transmission,” one that calls more explicit attention to Ian Curtis’s menacing lyrics, and hints at the source of Low’s own combo of dread and joy. Long Division‘s “Caroline” is reworked into a minor key as “Caroline 2.” The closing untitled “hidden” track provides the quiet background drone that appears to cut out just at the start of “Anon” on their 3rd full-length. Highlights: “Transmission,” “Caroline 2.”
The Curtain Hits The Cast (1996). In a word: Epic. This is Low’s first big “statement” album. The Biblical-heaviness of the title “Anon” opens the LP; the near-10-minute centerpiece “Laugh” pushes their slow-burn, minimalist, silence-embracing formula to the max; and then explodes that formula with the 14-minute, reverb-heavy opus “Do You Know How To Waltz?”, a track that is still boundary-pushing to this day (witness how upset a festival audience got when they performed it as late as 2013). Alongside Trust, Curtain is considered one of Low’s “dark” albums, even though the minor college-radio hit “Over the Ocean” is among their most uplifting numbers. This record is a long, deep-sea dive into the darkness that finishes with the reminder, “don’t be afraid of the dark.” Highlights: “Anon,” “Over the Ocean,” “Laugh,” “Standby,” “Same,” “Do You Know How To Waltz?” “Dark.”
Songs For A Dead Pilot (EP) (1997). In a word: Experimental. Opener “Will The Night” (which would appear in more straight-forward form on Secret Name) sounds as though it was recorded at the end of a tunnel. (It was also Alan’s first love song for Mimi.) “Condescend” alone is worth the price of admission, and introduces strings to Low’s sound for the first time. Third track “Born on the Wire” pushes their minimalism to its final and logical extreme: it is an ultra-slow 11-minute number, the last half of which is just a single, haunting, unresolved guitar chord played slower…and slower…and slower. This is music for a snowstorm. Highlights: “Will The Night,” “Condescend,” “Born on the Wires.”
One More Reason to Forget (1998). In a word: Alive. Their first live album. The distant police siren picked up in the background of opener “Be There” couldn’t have been more perfectly placed if it had been planned. Most notable for an early version of “If You Were Born Today” that presages the Christmas EP, and the only CD release of the “Venus” single till the 2004 box set. This album is long out of print and unavailable on streaming, so if you want a copy on CD-R or MP3, just email me. Highlights: “Be There,” “Venus,” “Do You Know How to Waltz,” “If You Were Born Today.”
Secret Name (1999). In a word: Religious. And not just because the album title, “Weight of Water,” and “Missouri” contain explicit references to their LDS faith (or at least, as explicit as Low ever can be); no, the understated beauty of the music itself is a religious experience. Low has pushed through the darkness, and while they haven’t come through unscathed, they have still found the light, apparently. Not just strings, but piano is integrated in for the first time. It was produced by Steve Albini of Nirvana In Utero fame, of all people. This is perhaps the ideal album by which to introduce new listeners. Highlights: “Starfire,” “Two-Step,” “Weight of Water,” “Missouri,” “Soon,” “Immune,” “Lion/Lamb.”
Christmas (EP) (1999). In a word: Sincere. Even more so than Secret Name, Low here wears their faith on their sleeve. They pull off the miraculous feet of being happy without being sappy, merry without being maudlin, religious without being preachy. The EP contains perhaps the only acceptable cover of “Little Drummer Boy” extant. “Just Like Christmas” is now rightfully considered an Indie-rock Holiday mainstay. “If You Were Born Today” is not just one of their best Christmas songs, but one of their best songs period. Highlights: “Just Like Christmas,” “Long Way Around The Sea,” “If You Were Born Today (Song For Little Baby Jesus).”
The Exit Papers (EP) (2000). In a word: Haunting. As the ‘90s ended and they pondered how to keep their band sustainable as they grew older, Low briefly flirted with the idea of pivoting to soundtrack work–specifically, Horror films. This brief collection of atmospheric instrumentals was basically their audition tape. (It even worked! They recorded “Half Light” for the 2002 Mothman Prophecies soundtrack.) Fortunately, they decided to stick with groundbreaking albums and touring instead. Highlights: Untitled 1, Untitled 3, Untitled 6.
Things We Lost In The Fire (2001). In a word: Symphonic. Their most critically-acclaimed album. The strings hinted at in Songs for a Dead Pilot and Secret Name comes to full fruition here. This is music for getting older (“July” bemoans the never-ending passage of time; “In Metal” is perhaps the most devastating song for new mothers ever). Album opener “Sunflower” is a fan favorite, though I personally think it’s only OK; indeed, in my personal opinion, the entire first half of the album, while fine, is a little underwhelming–right up until “July.” From there to the end, it’s just one gut-wrenching masterpiece after another. Highlights: “July,” “Laser Beam,” “Whore,” “Kind of Girl,” “Like a Forest,” “Closer,” “In Metal.”
Paris ‘99: “Anthony, Are You Around?” (2001). In a word: Lively. Their only other full-length live release, mostly featuring Secret Name tracks. A victory lap of sorts; it was recorded the first time they played an actual, proper music venue in Paris, France (as opposed to record-shop basements), where even the tiny venues are notoriously difficult to book (“Anthony” was the local French fan who helped get them scheduled). Despite the language barrier, you can hear Alan’s easy rapport with the audience. With the recent end of the band, these live recordings are now more precious than ever. This is a long out-of-print Japanese-only import, so again, if you want a copy, just DM me. Highlights: “Joan of Arc,” “Soon,” “Hey Chicago,” “Violence,” “Will the Night.”
In The Fishtank 7 (EP) (2001). In a word: Comforting. Low here joins forces with the instrumental-strings group Dirty Three, as part of an ongoing record series wherein various artists record impromptu sessions in an abandoned Amsterdam fishtank. The two groups bring out the best of each other. Southern Baptist-esque “Lordy” hints at the uptempo amplification shortly to come. Also features an excellent Neil Young cover. If previous albums contained songs for nightmares, this one is songs for getting tucked in at night. Highlights: “I Hear…Goodnight,” “Down By The River,” “When I Called Upon Your Seed,” “Lordy.”
Trust (2002). In a word: Funereal. Their first post-9/11 album. This is the other “dark” album of Low’s early oeuvre besides Curtain, consisting of such long and languid death marches as “(That’s How You Sing) Amazing Grace,” “Candy Girl,” “The Lamb” (which really does sound like a crucifixion), and “John Prine.” However, the record is also interspersed by much more sprightly fair like “Point of Disgust” (which featured on the UK show Skins) and “La La La Song”–as well Low’s first forays into amplifiers and rock, namely “Canada” and “Last Snowstorm of the Year.” It’s depressed music that gets you through your depression, not around it. Highlights: “Canada,” “The Lamb, “Last Snowstorm of the Year,” “La La La Song,” “Point of Disgust,” “Little Argument With Myself,” “Shots and Ladders.”
A Lifetime of Temporary Relief: 10 Years of B-Sides and Rarities (Boxset) (2004). In a word: Everything. A 3-CD set (plus a DVD) filled to the brim with demos, B-sides, non-album singles, live tracks, and covers from the first decade of their existence, presented in rough chronological order. Disc 1 does start off a little slow, but then rewards your patience with true gems it would be a tragedy to miss. Revealingly, their sense of humor shines through in places (e.g. their Punk rock version of “Words” that was performed at a Halloween concert in Misfits make-up). Though it may be heresy to say so, I actually prefer their version of “Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me” to the Smiths’. By the liner note’s own admission, they threw on everything and let the listener decide for one’s self what’s worth keeping; thankfully, that would be most of it. Highlights: “Tired,” “Prisoner,” “Venus,” “Joan of Arc,” “Words [Misfits style live]”, “Peanut Butter Toast and American Bandstand,” “Back Home Again,” “Kindly Blessed,” “Don’t Carry It All,” “Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me,” “Shots and Ladders [demo]”.
The Great Destroyer (2005). In a word: Loud. The amplifier experiments on Trust become the rule on The Great Destroyer. The simmering violence that had always silently threatened just below the surface of their minimalism is here released in its full rage at last. The sound of the flood breaking through the glacier. This was my first Low album, and what hooked me on them. “Silver Rider” alone justifies its existence. (Robert Plant covered “Silver Rider” and “Monkey” for a 2010 solo album.) And lest you think Low had lost its slowcore way, along comes the quiet “Death of a Salesman” to haunt your dreams. Time, by the way, is the Great Destroyer. Highlights: “Monkey,” “Silver Rider,” “Cue The Strings,” “Step,” “When I Go Deaf,” “Broadway (So Many People),” “Death of a Salesman.”
Drums and Guns (2007). In a word: Ethereal. Low’s first foray into Electronica. Their response to the Iraq War. The atmospheric music communicates more a mood than a message. Alan Sparhawk had decided to continue his Great Destroyer hard-rock experiments with his side-project Retribution Gospel Choir instead of Low; nevertheless three RGC songs, “Breaker,” “Hatchet,” and “Take Your Time,” make their way onto Drums and Guns in remixed form. They ask the Lord Himself if he could use a murderer, in dark parody of what every religious fundamentalist–American, foreign, whatever–has asked the Almighty. I can’t help but wonder if the “Violence” from Long Division‘s opener is what’s referenced in this album’s closing line, “Maybe it’s your violent past.” Highlights: “Belarus,” “Sandinista,” “Your Poison,” “In Silence,” “Murderer,” “Violent Past.”
C’mon (2011). In a word: Triumphant. Low splits the difference between the moody minimalism of their ’90s work and the wild distortion of their 2000’s, with such slow-burn build-up jams as “$20,” “Majesty/Magic,” and the ecstatic “Nothing But Heart,” the song I want played at my funeral. They marry together happy melodies and sadder lyrics on the opener “Try To Sleep” and closer “Something’s Turning Over.” C’mon is a record of contrasts, one I believe could’ve provided the perfect capstone and closing statement of their career, if they had chosen to break-up at the time; as such, it is another excellent entry point for new listeners after Secret Name. Highlights: “Try to Sleep,” “You See Everything,” “$20,” “Majesty/Magic,” “Nothing But Heart,” “Something’s Turning Over.”
The Invisible Way (2013). In a word: Spiritual. Jeff Tweedy of Wilco helped produce this LP for their 20th anniversary, bringing his own trademark touch of Americana. It contains their most explicitly religious lyrics since Secret Name (e.g. “Some Holy Ghost”, “Mother”, “To Our Knees”), and their most piano-heavy and Mimi Parker-focused songs overall. “Just Make It Stop” might have the most quintessential Low lyric ever: “Now I’m looking up from a ten-foot hole/See nothing but blue skies, shining on my soul…” Pretty much every outlet that reviewed it at the time–NPR, Pitchfork, AV Club, Stereogum, New York Times, etc.–felt the need to comment on the sheer astounding fact of the band’s longevity, of how much variety they’d managed to explore within such a self-limiting formula. Indeed, in its back-to-basics approach and acoustic elegance, The Invisible Way felt like the album wherein they officially transitioned to Legacy status. But Low wasn’t done yet. Highlights: “Plastic Cup,” “So Blue,” “Some Holy Ghost,” “Just Make It Stop,” “On My Own.”
Ones and Sixes (2015). In a word: Ominous. As the 2016 presidential race heated up, there was just this feeling in the air, like something terrible was about to happen, and Low was attuned to it. So Low shifted back towards electronica for the first time since Drums and Guns, and teamed up with producer BJ Burton for a trilogy of albums that swerved the band in a bold new direction. They seemed to intuit that the old tools weren’t working anymore, that it was time to burn everything down and begin afresh (“Our house is on fire,” Mimi Parker prophetically sings on lead-single “No Comprende“). For example: they not only dared write a song called “Landslide” that makes no reference to Fleetwood Mac’s, but that was even better than Fleetwood Mac’s. As for LDS allusions: they “penetrate the veil” on “Into You,” while album closer “DJ” directly quotes Satan himself (“You want religion, do you?”) from the temple endowment ceremony. Highlights: “Gentle,” “No Comprende,” “Spanish Translation,” “What Part of Me,” “Into You,” “Kids in the Corner,” “Landslide,” “DJ.”
Some Hearts (At Christmas Time) (2016). In a word: Precious. This is just a 7” single, which I wouldn’t ordinarily highlight in a list of albums; but I’d had zero luck getting my wife to share my love of Low till this song came out, so I suspect it might equally work as a gateway for others. (Though my wife now has a habit during the Holidays of requesting “that one, sad Low song”, and I’m like, honey, you’re gonna have to be a lot more specific). It also marked the final time Low would record an original in the style of their ’90s-era slowcore.
Double Negative (2018). In a word: Devastating. The electronica that had only tinged the outskirts of Ones and Sixes now envelop and suffocate the album whole. Perhaps the most perfectly-named Low album of all, it makes the darkness on The Curtain Hits the Cast and Trust sound like child’s play in comparison. It was a complete break from not only anything Low had ever done before, but from anything anyone had ever done before. Yet despite being so radically non-commercial, it garnered their best reviews since Things We Lost In The Fire. Even Indie-fans who had been lukewarm on Low were astonished by the sheer audacity of this re-invention–especially a solid quarter-century into their career. It’s the sound of the world ending; that is, it’s music for these Latter-days. Highlights: “Quorum,” “Dancing and Blood,” “Fly,” “Always Trying to Work It Out,” “Dancing and Fire,” “Disarray.”
HEY WHAT (2021). In a word: Restorative. As I wrote in a contemporaneous review of the album, Double Negative‘s studio tricks were here repurposed, redesigned, shifted from a minor key to a major one. It was like they destroyed the world on their last album but were now rebuilding it with the same tools. Low appeared to be carefully recovering their own sense of enchantment—not by pretending the previous 5 years never happened, but rather by shoring up their spiritual reserves for whatever comes next: politically, emotionally, environmentally, even cosmically. “Don’t Walk Away” is especially devastating now in light of Mimi’s passing; but then, the entire album is retrospectively devastating now, because it sounded like they still had so much more left to say. They were the ultra-rare band that only got better and bolder with age. Hence my grief at their loss; but what a high-note to end on! Highlights: “White Horses,” “I Can Wait,” “All Night,” “Disappearing,” “Days Like These,” “Don’t Walk Away,” “More,” “The Price You Pay (It Must Be Wearing Off).”