Grief for a loved one affects people in different ways. For most of us, grief is a private thing that we share with family and friends, if we chose to. For Alan Sparhawk, the tragic loss of his life partner and fellow Low member, Mimi Parker, was something his fans shared in. Such was the love for their music and how they were as people. I once met Mimi and Alan on a Dublin street. They took time to speak to me, a random person approaching them in the street, and I’ve never forgotten the warmth they showed in what was a fleeting moment. We cannot begin to imagine the pain that Alan and his children have endured since Mimi’s untimely passing. I couldn’t listen to their music for months. Then I selfishly wondered if Alan would continue to record music. So, it was an emotional moment to find that he was planning to release his first music as a solo artist. White Roses, My God is a beautiful title for an album that is quite unlike anything else I have ever heard.
The last few Low albums leaned heavily on electronic processing to twist and contort the sounds into something wondrous, as they sought to move outside the traditional confines of guitars and drums. Electronics are the mainline running through this album, and then some. For this record, Alan is virtually unrecognisable, with heavily processed vocal effects pitch shifting his voice like Prince’s Camille alter-ego on helium. The sound was something Alan stumbled upon as his children had been messing about with some keyboards and pedals and the idea sprung to life in his head about how to get creative again.
Opener ‘Get Still’ lurches into life with a burbling synth and deep bass hum and thumping electro beat. Until the layered vocals appear it’s a lowkey opening. The electro beats get momentarily tribal as Alan adlibs through to the conclusion twisting the melodies from voice and synth as loose as elastic. The quirky ‘I Made This Beat’ finds Alan repeatedly informing us of the track’s title as Kraftwerk-ish synths hurtle along with jittery jabbing. It’s a true test of the listener’s stamina to keep going. As it’s Alan Sparhawk, we give him the freedom to roam.
Longing for pristine heavenly harmonies? Well, they’re here on ‘Not the 1’ but it’s underneath the heavily treated vocal effects, so not quite the same. Call it a compromise. When the electro beats and bass start to pump with heft the dynamic effect is quite exhilarating. The melody’s fun and something of an earworm too. Lead track ‘Can U Hear’ prepped us for what the album would sound like. A startling and daring song that isn’t trying to please anyone but it’s creator. My initial feelings towards it were of fear that Alan had lost his ability/desire to create music like his incredible back catalogue under various guises. Then I read his interview with The Guardian, a truly heart wrenching read. Suddenly this new music was given a level of justification, and I understood a little better why it exists.
The first track to bring in a female vocalist is the fleeting song ‘Heaven’, which has the line “Heaven, it’s a lonely place if your alone, I want to be there with the people that I love”. Like a mighty punch to the gut, the emotions get turned upside down with this open-heart declaration. On ‘Brother’ Alan sounds like Frank Ocean or some such modern R and B star, over a spartan clatter of clipped beats and an itchy synth tone. At last, a guitar features with an angular riff hacking like a blunt knife through the mix. As the song winds to an end the whole thing gets filtered through warped effects and it becomes something of a release. ‘Black Water’ features junglist beats that can only be described as skittery. They flicker about under a monotone bass burble as melody takes a break for some freeform vocal interjections. Throughout ‘Feel Something’ a playful synth hops about the keyboard like the tune of getting a high score on a retro video game. Alan’s vocals are raw “I wanna feel something here” adding an uneasy feel to something that musically is upbeat and poppy. Almost by way of catharsis after a section of pumping beats, he starts to sing with a hopeful “I think I feel something here”.
Some tracks are just plain ugly, take for example ‘Station’ which opens with Alan snarling “I can please myself with the little things I seek out” over a sinister groove of searing synths and random percussive explosions. At the start of ‘Somebody Else’ Alan croaks “There’s a party in the basement” in such a creepy way that you’ll want to avoid it. As the track brightens up so does the vocal effect as he croons “Somebody else’s room” repeatedly to the track’s summery conclusion. Final track ‘Project 4 Ever’ comes partially with an element of relief. How many ways can a grieving soul expose his feelings to his audience? Halfway through the track synths layer up like rays of sunshine breaking through the clouds, it’s a wonderful and transcending moment. The final flurry of electro excitement comes with the funky shimmering beats and Alan at last sounding happy at his work.
Had this been a release by any other artist my review would likely have been quite different. White Roses, My God is not an easy listen, in some places it’s a bit of a struggle to enjoy the music, largely down to the vocal effects. But this is how Alan has chosen to appear for his first recording after Mimi’s tragic passing. He could have decided to pack up his recording equipment and fade away into the background. Low were very much a duo (and whoever played bass) with everything they did a partnership, yet more than that from being together as a couple, for all those years. So, with the backdrop of how this album came to be, being what it is, you find yourself more receptive to such abrasive sounds and wanton waywardness to contort such a beautiful voice. White Roses, My God is a rarity in that it is an essential album, not necessarily for the music, more for the fact that it has to exist, to keep Alan Sparhawk continuing to create his wonderful art.
