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Sep 26, 2024 Issue #73 - Maya Hawke and Nilüfer Yanya By Michael James Hall

Parallel to Low’s evolving, often inspired musical career, frontman Alan Sparhawk invested in musical ventures as diverse as a funk quartet and a New Wave synth band. Following the death of his wife, and Low bandmate, Mimi Parker, White Roses, My God sees Sparhawk alone at the controls for the first time since Solo Guitar, his beautiful, experimental ambient album of 2006. He takes the opportunity to make a record both unique and startling, even for an artist with so many arrows in his quiver.

Semi-improvised, home recorded, and built largely from synth, drum machine, and violently pitch-shifted vocals, White Roses, My God is a bold, deceptively simple record. Often impenetrable lyrically and drawn from a purposely limited sonic palette, while the listener may impose a shroud of sadness across every synthetic note, Sparhawk is intent on drawing from a broader emotional range.

As alienating as Sparhawk’s radically treated voice may be, his sense of urgent melody remains, as does a sense of joy. “I Made This Beat” sees him reiterate the title over swelling, pounding electro swells and surges, a musician expressing clear joy in the very moment of creation.

There is, though, no escaping the grief at the heart of White Roses. “Heaven” observes that it’s “a lonely place if you’re alone / I wanna be there with the people that I know” over a stuttering lo-fi beat, leading into a wash of vocals which markedly recall Mimi Parker’s ethereal voice. In that moment you hear both the loss of Parker and feel her ongoing presence. The minimalist, wonky electronica of “Feel Something” repeatedly asks “Can you feel something here?” then pleads “Can you help me feel something here?” as Sparhawk’s voice lowers, detunes, approaching something like a cracked mirror version of his own.

Yes, it’s stark, and yes it’s challenging, claustrophobic even, but when Sparhawk perfectly contrasts the pain of loss with the remaining light of life, as on “Somebody Else’s Room” (“There’s a party in the basement / This is somebody else’s room”) it’s remarkably poignant.

White Roses, My God is a glance at Sparhawk’s musical sketchbook that’s somehow both unrehearsed and constructed with care, enjoyable and unknowable, as transient as it is profound. It may be somewhat unexpected in form, but its compelling content should come as no surprise. (www.chairkickers.com)

Author rating: 8/10