Friday, February 7, 2003, Manchester, UK
"I had so much to say."
First time I saw Low they were supporting Come at the London Garage and
Kramer was doing their sound. They were enjoyable but I didn't feel
motivated to rush out and buy their records. Since then they've just
kept getting better and better, growing ever more assured, confident
and orgasmic. Last week Low played the best gig I ever saw them do. The
sound was perfect, immaculate, accentuating their pin drop precision,
and the large crowd was held enraptured in awe. From the opener "Candy
Girl" it was clearly the perfect fuck music, tragic make out make up
for the last fling before she flies over the ocean. It had all the
controlled intensity of their spartan Joy Division "Transmission" cover
that had held the Star and Garter so enraptured on earlier trips to
Manchester. The way Alan Sparhawk turns and strums at Mimi Parker and
the way she taps calm heartbeat assurance is PURE SEX. It's so obvious
Mimi is his his candy girl, and this is the sweet molten core of Low's
slowburning genius. Alan and Mimi (ahem, and bassist Zack Sally) have
fashioned a music that twists and turns with all the ups and downs of
an intensely consummated relationship. "Candy Girl" also shows that
maybe Steve Albini has had a little more influence on Low than just
recording them. Alan throws out subtle jags of guitar skree at oblique
angles to the heartbreak beat. The song cuts dead and they launch into
the Peel-popular "That's How You Sing Amazing Grace" and the relatively
stompin' "Canada" single. How can that Sparhawk dude sing "In the
Drugs" without bursting into tears? It surely is one of the saddest
songs I ever heard. Then there's the spaghetti western malevolance of
"John Prine," a dark ode to revenge so quietly fiercesome it could
ignite blue flames of paranoia in anyone who ever crossed a softspoken
Duluth musician. Low can even make dear ol' drippy Roger Waters seem
profound, with their majestic cover of "Fearless." On the way to the
gig I was almost run over by a speeding car escaping gross corporate
slavewage superstore. I had been moderately distracted by Come in my
headphones, which would've been a fine thing to hear with my dying
breath, but it was no time to leave the planet. A glimpse of mortality
is always a lever for heightened sensuality. Don't waste your days with
mediocre piffle. You might die tomorrow. Hurry up materialise, don't
just threaten to. Flirt, take drugs, booze, shoot the shit with the
people who are worth the effort. Soundtrack it with a band that fucking
matters, and then some! Low are serious as your life.
"Now I'm gonna make them pay."