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Low
Drums And Guns
Sub Pop
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Article
written by James S
Apr 12, 2007.
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Let’s start with a little hyperbole. Low’s show at the Spitz in London a few months ago was one of the greatest seen round these parts in many years. The fact that the evening was so sublime, despite large chunks of it being devoted to the new songs from this album, thoroughly disproved the gig adage that unfamiliarity breeds contempt.
‘Drums And Guns’ sounds nothing like that spellbinding live performance however, nor in fact anything Low have done previously. Their second album for Sub Pop, and the second they’ve done with producer Dave Fridmann, is a perverse beast in many ways.
Whilst the band’s staple line-up remains the classic trio combination of guitar, bass and drums, it’s a shock to realise that there is a paucity of any such instrumentation on this record. Instead synths and organs form the rhythm on many of the tracks, whilst skittering beats and handclaps provide the percussion. If that’s not incongruous enough, the album is mixed so that roughly three-quarters of the sound is panned deliberately to one side or the other, with the lead vocals exclusively in the right-hand channel. The effect is dizzying, disconcerting and downright devilish.
The devil also appears in much of the detail of Alan Sparhawk’s lyrics. Gone are the sweet love sonnets of yore, to be replaced by a pervading theme of death and murder. That opener Pretty People begins with “All the soldiers, they’re all gonna die; And all the little babies, they’re all gonna die” is portentous to say the least.
The trouble with ‘Drums And Guns’ though is that the lyrical ideas are rarely fleshed out beyond a few brief verses. Like haute cuisine, they’re often delicious but just not substantial enough to really satisfy. Low have never been a meat and potatoes band but the likes of Always Fade and Dust In Your Window need bulking up considerably.
Just when you’re starting to write this album off as an intriguing but flawed experiment, the closing trio of songs make it all worthwhile. In Silence and Violent Past would be worthy of inclusion on any Low record, but Murderer is the latest entry in their pantheon of genius. Over a whirring keyboard and split-speaker cymbals, Sparhawk offers his services as a hitman to God. “Don’t act so innocent; I’ve seen you pound your fist into the earth” he reasons. In three short minutes you’re transported back to the Spitz, and Low reassert their rightful place in even the hardest of hearts.
Untitled Document
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