Low @ Halifax Minster, 9 Dec
If ever a band was made for churches, it’s Low. Not just because of their noted religious tendencies (they’re arguably indie rock’s most famous practising Mormons), nor the musical sparseness that allows their quiet epics to resonate perfectly within those buildings’ towering structures. Essentially, it's because their sound contains a singular quality that’s unmatched across their genre, no matter how hard others may try. For the uninitiated, that quality is sheer spirituality.
It’s the one thing that makes their Christmas shows – which could so easily run the risk of succumbing to mawkish naffness in lesser hands – seem like vital, joyous experiences. Perhaps it’s the slight tremor in Mimi Parker’s voice as she reclaims the ache of Blue Christmas, or reminds us of the beauty we take for granted in Silent Night’s gorgeous simplicity. Perhaps it’s the way they sprinkle magic dust over a rendition of Santa’s Coming Over, greeted with open mouths and ripples of dazed applause. Whatever it is, all these subtleties add up to a wider whole: an experience that feels bigger than mere ‘rock show’ and reaches directly to lift the soul. Low have always radiated a profound sense of yearning, but in revisiting their 1999 EP Christmas, they wrap it all up in a warmth that makes them feel more approachable, more willing to be loved and more open about loving us in return. Yep, it’s that kind of night.
A singalong shuffle through the jauntier Just Like Christmas signals the end of their first set this evening (expanded to a five-piece, absorbing support acts Katie Harkin and Erik Koskinen into the fold), but 15 minutes later the core trio re-emerge to play through a selection from last year’s remarkable Ones and Sixes LP. Choice cuts No Comprende, Lies and Spanish Translation are all remarkable, drawing lines between the hushed slowcore of their early years and the noisier fare they began to investigate from the turn of the century onwards – the contrast between quiet and loud has been an alt rock staple for over three decades now, but Low make it feel fresh; an intense emotional spectrum to be explored rather than a jarring shift for easy kicks.
There’s also a rearranged version of Breaker, from 2007’s Drums and Guns, which revels in the sorrow of its refrain (‘There’s got to be an end to that’) before the crashing drama of Landslide provides the evening’s dizzying zenith. If their most recent LP is an attempt to find meaning and structure in life’s great unquantifiables, then tonight’s live show feels like those questions are left to hang between Halifax Minster’s candlelit pews: arguably an existential experience rather than a religious one, but nonetheless one which encompasses you beyond the urge to dance or sing along.
They leave us with new song Some Hearts (at Christmas Time), and we emerge with questions anew, but emboldened by exhilaration. In 2016, church may no longer be the focal point of everyone's seasonal festivities, but tonight Low make it feel like the only place to be.