Press and Radio
Artist Low
Title Drums And Guns
Label Sub Pop
Relevant magazine
By Gentry Boeckel
Published: April 2007
This is a weird war. There is no easily discernible enemy, no common national rallying cary, no central plan for the future. Those without a serving son, daughter or acquaintance, are largely inconvenienced by this war, with higher gas prices and tiresome airport procedures, rather than affected by it. With this war, it is hard to say what "Support Our Troopes" really means. The ambivalence, indifference and skepticism that this war has bred are hard to pin down. Is it epitomized in the "Bring our troops home" bumper sticker place strategically next to a "Support our Troops" ribbon? The jaded, outspoken marine being court-martialed? The protest song performed on a popular late night television show? Alan Sparhawk of Low has likely debated this same moral quandary, namely: what role do I (and can I) play in this current war climate? "Where would you go if the gun fell in your hand?" Sparhawk and wife Mimi Parker sing on "Sandinista." The cracks and pops of machine guns seem so far away, yet so close.
Similarly, the songs on Drums and Guns crack, creak and pop with hazy loops and electronics. Dave Fridmann has returned as producer after helming last yearıs The Great Destroyer. He's building a reputation as not only a prolific producer, but a versatile one as well. That he produced Sleater-Kinneyıs in-the-red-peaking swan song, "The Woods," post-hardcore stalwarts Thursday, as well as this minimal, dark work is a testament to his flexibility behind the boards. More than any other recent album he has produced, Drums and Guns sees Fridmann as more a secret member than a simple knob twister.
Where does one start with the production on Drums and Guns? Itıs a bold move that will alienate lots of fans, especially those who have grown used to the live incarnations of many of these songs. On record, they are literally torn apart and rebuilt as creaking, electronic, studio-blessed creations. They bear little to no similarity, except lyrically, to their live counterparts. The acoustic, gentle "Dragonfly," is transformed into a droning, claustrophobic dirge, constantly on-the-verge of falling apart. It's also one of the most beautiful songs Low has ever recorded. Over a squalling guitar and echoing snare, Alan Sparhawk sings one of his most candid songs, weaving together the two main themes of Drums and Guns, war and mental illness.
In early May 2005, Sparhawk posted a letter online concerning the cancelation of Low's May and June tour dates. Sparhawk explained, in his strangely eloquent way, that he was battling mental illness and that touring would only worsen his situation. "I have been speculated/diagnosed with everything from post-traumatic stress disorder, ADHD, bipolar whatever, suicidal depression/anxiety ... to paranoia, laziness, OCD, and good old-fashioned two-faced a******-ness," he wrote. Whatever it was, listening to Drums and Guns, it seems that the Iraqi war and George W. Bush in general, didnıt helped to set Sparhawkıs mind at ease. On the nearly acappella, early-Low sounding "Your Poison," Sparhawk rails against the "Collared chief," who uses his tongue as a weapon: "You cut what you reap with your poison," Sparhawk nearly screams. The days of living in hope seem long gone.
But back to "Dragonfly," which so succinctly sums up the entire record. In the song Sparhawk sings "We took our pills / It changed the world / But then we realized / That we were dragonflies / We knew we had to try to find / A way to get more pills." Sparhawk uses the all-seeing, thousand-eyed dragonfly as a metaphor for his inability to close his eyes to the world's myriad troubles. Staying true to the record's hopeless attitude toward the future, even toward his own idealized/medicinal idea of a "cure," Sparhawk ends by singing "Why do we even try? / There's no such thing as dragonfly pills."
If "Dragonfly" shows Sparhawk at his most resigned, "Sandinista" shows him at his most militant. Titled after the Nicaraguan communist organization, The Sandinista National Liberation Front, over little more than tom-heavy drums, "Sandinista" finds Sparhawk questioning his role as a revolutionary. On the very next song, "Always Fade," Sparhawk is singing in bright red details the image of his own decapitationwishing to rid himself of the "weight on [his] neck."
It is all dark, heady stuff, but thankfully wife Mimi is always in the background, adding a sympathetic, feminine
touch (through harmony) to help soften Sparhawkıs vitriol.
Drums and Guns is such a powerful wartime record because it wages its own war against debilitating global
warfare through the lens of Sparhawk's own internal conflict. "Murderer," released as a 10² EP back in 2003 was an
obvious, chilling response to the war in Iraq and what Sparhawk perceived as unrighteous, in-God's-name slaughter.
That the song is remade in a beautifully minimal form at the end of Drums and Guns, and that it still has just
as much, if not more, timeliness and emotional heft, makes it the album's late centerpieceit's themes of guilt and
powerlessness tying the record together. It shouldn't be so pretty, but it is. The same could be said for Drums and Guns
as a paranoid, somber whole.
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