A Low Profile

Duluth-based band's slow, relaxed sound proves to be true alternative

Ross Raihala, The Forum. March 28, 1996

Alan Sparhawk speaks much like his band Low plays.

Slowly. Very slowly.

And a few weeks ago when I called Sparhawk at his home in Duluth, Minn., he sounded like he'd been hit by a truck. "I'm sorry," he said, excusing himself for the first in a line of long, sorrowful nose blows and a rattling cough. "I've been really sick."

Sparhawk's feeling much better now, thank you, and will be in Fargo tonight for a concert at Borna's Bagel Bakery.

Beyond a sparsely attended gig at Concordia College, Low has never played live in the area. Growing up in the tiny northwestern Minnesota town of Clearbrook, Fargo-Moorhead was the closest metro area for a young Sparhawk. "I bought my first bass at Marguerite's Music," he said. "I think Fargo subconsciously means excitement for me."

Low's charmed life

Low's new release, the "Transmission" EP, is the latest chapter in the band's short but charmed life.

Single monikered, indie dynamo Kramer helmed Low's first two albums and two of the tracks on "Transmission." Known for his work with low-fi bands such as Galaxie 500, Kramer is worlds away from Steve Albini, the punker-than-punk producer infamous for recording the Breeders, P.J. Harvey and Nirvana. Yet, Albini was responsible for two more tracks on "Transmission."

Regardless of who's twiddling the knobs, Low has developed a style uniquely their own, it could (and should) be dubbed "sLow rock."

At about a third the pace of your typical alternarock combo, Sparhawk tenderly strums his guitar and sings in a hushed tone. Using only a snare and a cymbal, Mimi Parker (Sparhawk's wife of six years) marks time like a metronome a millimeter from the "off" position and quietly harmonizes with Sparhawk. With his barely there pluckings, bass player Zak Sally dutifully follows along in the background.

Parker's fairly unorthodox, minimalist drum set-up was created more out of default than design. "All we really had was a snare," Sparhawk said. "It seemed to make sense for being a quiet band. We just figured we'd get a cymbal to add a little texture. Once we had those two things going, we never really felt we needed any more. She's real happy with it; if we were to go and get a whole trap set, it would be too much. Plus, we'd have to take a year off so she could learn how to play it."

Low's sound is so minimal, on paper it may sound like a short walk off a long pier. But on record - and especially live - the trio is shockingly adept at painting a variety of emotions with such an allegedly limited set of resources.

"When we played our first couple of shows in Duluth, we thought that people would completely hate it," Sparhawk said, "like it would be almost punk of us to sit there and play this completely annoying, quiet and slow music. We thought it would really bother people, but instead, everybody sat down, shut up and was really into it."

Kramer picked up on Low

Low's resume reads like the dream of a thousand indie hopefuls.

"I was in a louder, more traditional alternative rock band," Sparhawk said. "You know, the guys going crazy kind of thing. I'd been doing that for a while and it was kind of losing its spark for me. There was other stuff I was really interested in doing."

He quit the group and started knocking around some songs with Parker. Vowing to not take themselves too seriously, they enlisted bass player John Nichols and set out to play those embryonic live dates.

Bolstered by the positive response, the band recorded a handful of tracks and sent them off to a few labels and producers. "I know we sent one to 4AD and one to Dischord," Sparhawk said. "It wasn't like, 'Hey, here's my band, dude, will you sign us?' It was more, 'I really respect what you're doing, here's some strange stuff that we're doing. This might be something to listen to while you're making soup.'"

After getting a nice little note back from Dischord - "thanks for the beautiful music and good luck" - Low got a call from Kramer. The underground music impresario runs the tiny Shimmy-Disc label along with his own studio, where he records the disparate likes of Gwar, the Boredoms and Ween. Famous for his breathless work ethic, Kramer likes to keep his studio filled with the up-and-comings and the already of alternative rock.

Four months after starting Low, Sparhawk and friends were packing their bags and heading to New York City to work with Kramer. Initially, they hoped to record a 7-inch. single to either put out themselves or maybe release on Shimmy-Disc. By the end of the sessions, Vernon; Yard Recordings (a division of Virgin Records, home to the likes of Janet Jackson and the Smashing Pumpkins) had already staked a claim at signing Low.

Vernon Yard released the band's debut "I Could Live In Hope" in early 1994. "We had a record out within nine or 10 months of getting together, which is amazing," Sparhawk said. "We didn't get paid a lot of money, but we were in a position that a lot of people spend years trying to get to."

A true alternative

The pressures of constant touring drove Low to oust John Nichols in favor of Zak Sally, who was on board in time for Low's second album "Long Division." Released last May, Low's sophomore record drew rapturous reviews praising the band's hypnotic brilliance.

In a music scene full of cookie-cutter grunge and punk, Low quietly eked out a fan base by acting as a true alternative. "Something very different is at least going to catch someone's ear for a moment," Sparhawk said. "Hopefully, our stuff is worth listening to for a few more seconds. Usually, that's all it takes to get somebody who's really into music interested."

Low followed "Long Division" with a cover version of "Transmission" for last fall's Joy Division tribute album "A Means To An End" (which, incidentally, features track by ex-Fargoans godheadSilo).

A slightly different version of "Transmission" leads off the new EP. By slowing down the doom and gloom of the original, the band uncovers whole new layers of meaning in the song. "It's got two chords and it just bangs along," Sparhawk3 said. "We used to play it in my old band and we'd just kick it hard and fast. It was interesting to try to bring out some of the less obvious things that were in the song by slowing it down. It's still very powerful."

Low at home in Duluth

At barely three years old with just as many releases, Low sits at an enviable spot in the music industry. After working with Kramer and Steve Albini, Low recorded its next album (due for release this fall) with Steve Fisk, yet another.cool underground producer, known for his work with various Sub Pop and K Records bands.

While they've become a fixture on the Twin Cities live scene, Low still maintains a Duluth address. "We were lucky to get to the point where, early on in the band, we were able to do the things most people move to big cities to do. That stuff was already done, so we've just stayed here. After running around on tour and whatnot, it's nice to be able to come to a place where there's nothing going on."

So far, Low's relations with their record label seem to be going well, too. "In the beginning, they thought they could shape us and tell us what to do. They tried that and it didn't really work. We either proved them wrong or argued against them. We've got some critical acclaim, we've sold OK, we're a growing band... I think they've decided to just let Low do what they do, because it's worked so far.

"Deep down inside, Vernon Yard probably thinks some day we'll become the darlings of VH1 or that we're going to be opening for Enya or something. I think they'd like the same people who are buying those stinking Enya records to buy Low records.

"But I suppose if they really wanted us to be doing that," Sparhawk said, "I think they'd be pushing us in different directions. They seem to have faith in us, which is nice, because most bands on a major label are unhappy most of the time. We're really lucky."