Low - HEY WHAT

KNEES ON CONCRETE, PLEADING FOR SACRIFICE

I needed this. A few weeks ago I began Low's discography at I Could Live In Hope, a debut considered essential for the Slowcore genre. Thing is, I don't really like Slowcore. Therefore, the interest in Low lies in their continued expansion over the three decades they've been functional. A peek into the 2000's revealed a group grasping at the Indie Rock revolution, while modern day finds them gripped by Noise both shrill and tender. This progression stands opposite to the majority who're typically invigorated by youth, weary and drawn back with age. Not Low. HEY WHAT pummels their anxieties in the most immediate way possible, through distortion and unfamiliarity. Take 'White Horses,' a song that sets the stage for both. Fermented vocals scratch against an austere crunch, before a daringly-extended outro ticks frantically, like a clock in a Salvador Dali painting. This 90-second transition into 'I Can Wait,' though strident and borderline repulsive, deserves applause. I hate it, but one can't deny the audaciousness. Especially coming from a pair of 50-year-olds whose origin can be traced back to the barest of essence.

It's this duality between perspectives, approaching despair through emptiness (Slowcore) and suffocation (Post-Industrial), that advances HEY WHAT to another level of appreciation. Though, to be fair, the vocals from Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker have aged quite wearily over the years, coming across as lacerated and faint. This, further separating Low from younger, avant-garde contemporaries, and not positively. Tracks like 'Days Like These' and 'Don't Walk Away' expose this enervated state most prominently, despite the former doing an excellent job sideswiping their melancholic whininess (a la Porches) with skyrocketing mountains of Noise. It's a startling duality, punctuated by an extended Ambient passage, utilized similarly on 'Hey.' However, HEY WHAT's best moments occur when the duo's vocals succumb to the robotic handlers surrounding them. See: 'All Night' and 'Disappearing,' an exceptional pair that feature crashing waves of monochromatic liquid drowning Parker's vocals in a concrete gel. The fine-tuning here is marvelous, giving the pair a unique style that, in spite of the Post-Industrial edifices towering around them, feels unnaturally serene in a way Ambient Pop might.

While much of the conversation can drive around the vocals, HEY WHAT's true colors shine in the production. Or lack thereof, as Low engulfs their sound in a myriad of greys. The cover, of course, helps cement this. Ashes, cinder, granite, aluminum. The minutiae can all be felt, with rough textures piling atop the increasingly-sunken vocals. This, best seen on the gruff, militaristic dirge of closer 'The Price You Pay.' It's the moment of victory for the evildoers, as an onslaught of drums storm forward without a care to the destruction left in wake. An excellent closer to this dire album, pitting human frailty against impossible odds. And, seemingly, losing.