Low
Wed March 22
Bossanova
722 E Burnside
The parallels are pretty uncanny: two bands–both incredibly respected and successful, and with a half-dozen records under their belts–make the completely superfluous jump from labels that supported them for the better part of their respective decades to sub-major Sub Pop. Both bands decide to use this opportunity as a means to release the riskiest records of their fairly prudent careers. One band successfully musters an interesting, thoroughly compelling addition to their illustrious discography. And the other band is Low.
Beyond the immediate, Low and Sleater-Kinney share a surprising number of notable (if circumstantial) similarities: while neither could be accused of a particularly eclectic discography, both bands have evolved from out of the long dead sub-genres that birthed them (slowcore and riot grrrl, respectively) to create their most definitive works well into their careers (Things We Lost In the Fire and One Beat, respectively)–works that saw both bands seeming to reach the logical conclusions of their career’s trajectory. (Less relevant similarities include the relatively recent parenthood of the bands’ principals, and the fact that both bands were born of the original members’ romantic relationships–but that’s neither here nor there, I suppose.) At exactly the same crossroads in their careers–what a press release might call the seven-album itch–Sleater-Kinney and Low both made decisions of eerie synchronicity: sign to the Pop, make the most rock n’ fuckin’ roll record of your career (both produced by Dave “I ruined the Flaming Lips” Fridmann), and risk completely alienating your devoted fan-base. Weird, right?
In Sleater-Kinney’s case, that meant cutting The Woods (not due out ’til May 24)–a rattling re-evaluation that retrofits their sound with heaving guitar savagery, an embittered vocal delivery recalling the Call the Doctor days, and a surprising sonic depth (read: bass). Low, on the other hand, decided to deliver the most boring record of their career–a lazy, uninspired “rock” collection called The Great Destroyer. For a brilliant band whose career has been built on a foundation of thoughtful subtlety, The Great Destroyer feels almost entirely shat-out–a ham-fisted experiment that equates “rock music” with careless lyrics, hollow, chugging guitars, and a desperate attempt to divorce themselves from their past. And it’s precisely the past that makes Sleater-Kinney’s The Woods so effective–as the band seems to consider its entire discography in their revamp. After a decade of consistent quality, Low is certainly allowed one substantial misstep–but let’s hope that, in the future, they have the good sense to take a cue from their labelmates.