[rating=7]
Low’s ninth album C’Mon, released in April on Sub Pop Records, in no way diminishes their catalogue or reduces them from the fantastic slowcore indie band they’ve known to be, but at the same time it never quite reaches its full potential. The lyrics here are more esoteric and veiled than those on their previous effort, Drums and Guns (2007), a stark and brittle rumination on the war in Iraq and the history of human violence, but their metaphors and lyrical twists don’t feel as new as on Trust or The Great Destroyer. In fact, much of the failings of C’Mon lie in its by-the-numbers approach to a Low album. Still, it’s important to note that a Low album is in and of itself an exceptional force. Over the course of their career they’ve continually raised the bar for their own music and artistry, and in many ways C’Mon is yet another remarkable step on their journey; however, if it’s three steps forward, it’s also one step back.
First track “Try to Sleep” could not be more different than Drums and Guns’ opener “Pretty People.” On the latter, a buzz of discordant guitars grows and swells to become a cacophonous drone while frontman Alan Sparhawk sings “All soldiers, they’re all gonna die.” “Try to Sleep,” on the other hand, starts with ambient feedback bursting into a joyous, whimsical xylophone-led melody that appears to be nothing short of a lullaby. Comparing the two isn’t meant to make any value judgments over which is more authentic or real, but to underscore the major shift taken by the band after its last record. But, rather than mark a new direction into uncharted experimental territory, it turns out that C’Mon is quite familiar.
“Try to Sleep” captures the band’s grasp of haunting melody, while “Nothing But Heart” brings back the epic, grandiose sprawler. “Done” is minimal in sound but utterly catchy, “Majesty/Magic” is a plodding, slowly undulating shoegazer of a song and “$20” showcases their grasp of harmonies and melancholy. While there are moments in all of these songs that remind the listener of why Low is one of the singularly best bands of their genre, they feel unfinished and somewhat half-hearted. Even still, three of the songs on C’Mon stand up among their absolute best work, and are superlative examples of their craft.
“Witches” incorporates the searing electric guitar so familiarized on Drums and Guns, but it is used with delicious restraint. Sparhawk’s vocals are complemented by Mimi Parker’s gorgeous alto, resonating and wrapping around his tenor to create a musical piece that comes alive in vivid visual detail. “Nightingale” highlights their harmonies yet again, but the jazz-inflected guitar provides just the right silky backdrop for Sparhawk and Parker to sing the words with such rich emotion and depth of feeling. It’s an utterly enchanting work that trumps the final two tracks and would have worked fabulously as the closer. But the absolute standout of the album is “Especially Me.” The layered vocals, led fearlessly by Parker, are disarming in their honeyed smoothness. In fact, they’re so bewitching that you want to stop the progression of the album to put this song on repeat. The strength of the vocals points out one of the main weaknesses of the album, in that Parker is drastically underused. “Especially Me” is adroit in its approach and timeless in its manifestation– the mark of a truly excellent song.
It’s difficult to criticize a band this deep into a career for retracing steps when those steps are as accomplished as these; however, Low has also made a point of releasing music that pushes their own boundaries and build on the strengths of their previous output while avoiding repeating themselves. C’Mon is a strong record that is engaging and has some major high points, but ultimately does not escape the omnipresence of unfulfilled potential.
