A cold, cramped place filled with old memories and subtle pangs of regret — one many have visited temporarily, only to forget it exists immediately upon their departure — is the world that Low inhabits. In fact, their mastery as denizens of this strange dimension has debatably elevated them to the position of the foremost slowcore band. In their brooding, immersive new release “Ones and Sixes,” Low takes you to this place, whose existence is often forgotten.
A driving bassline carries the beginning of one of the album’s openers, “No Comprende.” This bassline runs just a little longer than expected, and then longer still. By the time frontman Alan Sparhawk’s airy vocals appear, listeners are already hypnotized. This is where the mastery in Low’s music truly lies. They know exactly how long it takes to mesmerize, where most artists usually just rush to the message. Low coddles the listener, puts them to bed in the soundscape, and once they’re almost asleep, Low says what they have to.
Their skill, however, is not just in their cognizance of pace, but also in their arrangement. By tapping into some imperceptible part of the mind they bring in the vocals exactly when you, for some unknown reason, felt they should come in. They drop the guitars precisely when you were beginning to feel the need for some silence.
On “Kid in the Corner,” this unexpected complexity is clear. Though superficially simple, the track unfolds infinitely upon a closer listen. Where one voice was heard, now there are two as drummer Mimi Parker and Sparhawk’s chilling harmonies take hold. What you initially wrote off as a bass pedal is actually a synth line floating just above the surface of the song, tying it all together. This is a work that, with careful attention, never ceases to surprise.
Low’s lyrics have always been evocative, but few releases can mimic just how truly visceral the experience of “Ones and Sixes” is. The line “The slowing of my brain, the underlying vein, that flows right into you”, from “Into You” is only sung for the sake of musical custom. These are words typically mumbled, hands-in-face, sitting on the sidewalk as a jovial crowd flows around. Low is a band of “befores,” and the gentle heat of their introspection is the only warmth left in an often frigid world of recollection.
“Ones and Sixes” is everything fans have always loved about Low, and then some. With time, they’ve brought out the true divinity in the slowcore genre: limitless complexity where there seems to be none. Their lyrics isolate and yet remain intensely relatable all the same. This is a release that one cannot just put on at any time. It requires a commitment all its own.