ALBUM REVIEW: LOW 'DOUBLE NEGATIVE'

Double Negative marks the twelve album for the Minnasota based husband and wife trio. Low are predominantly known for their slowcore aesthetics. In many ways they could be wrongly labelled as the epitome of minimalism. Since becoming a part of the Sub Pop label, Low have been reinventing theirselves. Just like a good wine the band have gotta better with time. Having a career spanning twenty five years, it's easy for a band to become complacent. Alan and Mimi are pushing themselves into new, bold and abrasive areas. 

One of the joys of Low's music comes from the blurring of light and dark. For the couple who are progressive Christians, they manage to create transgressive and highly emotive songs that somehow manage to remain timeless. Whether Double Negative's overpowering glitchy electronic, harsh distortion, deathly grim noise rock becomes dated is something only music historian's will come to answer. This does however feel like an album for our time. Given the bombardment of visual pleasures in our modern age, Double Negative can be a hard listen. It's certainly a depature from their last record Ones and Sixes, which remains one of their most accessible and consistently enjoyable records to date. In many ways BJ Burton (who is most known for his work with Bon iver) and the band have built from the foundations left over from the last album and manage to explode  them into almost unrecognisable elements. 

Right from the off 'Quorum' assaults the listener. With it overblown distortion and weird digital synth ambience, it's like frayed electrical wires being crossed and destroying your speakers. On the surface it feels gimmicky. We can bearly make our Alan or Mimi's vocals. It's just pure, aggressive noise. On first listen it's almost unlistenable. Then about half way through the sound collage breaks down. It's down to suspended chords and clear vocals. Just as you are about to settle down into a softer sound, the noise comes back and rocks harder than it did before. This time it's met with some gorgeous harmonies from Mimi, which perfectly compliments the swells of deafening static. Dancing and Blood follows, sounding like it would be right at home in Twin Peaks: The Return. We hear relentless pounding, almost like a heartbeat of a cyberpunk. The industrial looped beat is met with Mimi Parker emerging from the chaos. Although sounding initially uncommercial, it becomes a nice glitch pop number. After four minutes of subtle noise rock, a slow and steady buildup of Sparhawk's isolated vocal cresendos into a drone. This seemlessly blends into 'Fly', the album's first 'normal' song.

Keeping in tone with a glitchy electronic formula, 'Fly' feels like a traditional Low song. It's slow, sensual and profoundly moving. Clearly this song is a standout for the band as well. Watching the music video for 'Fly' is both moving and disturbing. Seeing what I assume is Alan's mother on her deathbed crosses all lines of privacy. The lyrics of this song can be interpreted as a parting gift to the loss of their loved one. The rest of the album finds the band balancing the chaos in the background with a soft, gentleness which still pounds. I'm a sucker for an album which seamlessly plays out like one long song. It takes a lot of ambition and creativity to make a work that is consistent. This feels like a statement. In some ways it serves as a message for how much noise surrounds us. We have layers upon layers of video content everywhere we look, on screens, billboards, even in toilets. The unflinching, snarling static and shattering beats serve to suggest how we are struggling to stop and think about ourselves and the world around us. They manage to pull immense hope from an overwhelmingly dark presence. This is perfectly summarised in the album's closing number 'Disarray': "Before it falls into total disarray, You'll have to learn to live a different way".

This album plays as conceptional art as it does music. At times you can feel a great anxiety for struggling to make out what the band are saying. As a listener you get lost in all the noise. It can also come across like they are trying to say: all this noise means no one is being heard. There are so many options surrounding us, it's hard to find a moment to settle down. Are we corrupted by the chaos of modern life and too saturated in digital artifacts to comprehend who or what we are doing? These are bold questions. It's up to you as the listen to come away with your own reading. Ultimately I think Low are trying to say there is hope. Mimi sings in 'Always Up', which is my favorite on the album: "I believe. Can't you see?" This small moment of clarity still break through. Holding onto faith in humanity, within a space where nothing can be trusted, amidst corruption and carnage is Double Negative's closing image.