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Low

Friday, February 28, at the Fahrenheit Gallery, 1717 W. 9th Street.

By Nancy Einhart

Published on February 27, 2003

Since its inception in 1994, Low has fashioned sandman-summoning songs that beg for a joint and a comfy chair. Listeners who succumb to slumber, though, will most likely have twitchy nightmares; Low spikes its sleeping pills with an emotionally jarring vibe, stretching well-crafted pop songs to the breaking point. For its sixth album, Trust, Low -- Zak Sally on bass and keyboards and married Mormons Mimi Parker and Alan Sparhawk on drums and guitar, respectively -- maintains much of its chilly beauty but ups the tempo on several songs. Trust contains all the sonic details of the Duluth, Minnesota, group's past efforts: perfectly blended vocals from Sparhawk and Parker, calm and collected melodies, and creative instrumentation such as bells and shattered glass. The threesome also branches out, delivering downright energetic songs such as "Snowstorm," which sounds like Joy Division gone Christmas caroling. Even when Low is happy, though, danger lurks close, as evidenced by the telling line Sometimes I could just choke myself with laughter. Given the absence of mirth in Low's material, spectators need not fear fatal giggling spells. They could, however, lose themselves completely in their somnolent surroundings, enraptured by the sparse instrumentation and long-sustained notes of these dense, disquieting lullabies.



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