In this day and age, releasing an album called Drums and Guns is bound to lead to some misconceptions. In fact, the title of Low’s eighth full-length record sounds like the perfect vehicle for the idealistic rockers nowadays who find reason to cry “foul” against every politician in office and every act of violence taking place. But those who are expecting indignant anger and over-the-top anti-battle cries from this record must not be familiar with Low.
Drums and Guns is an anti-war record. But it’s an anti-war record done in the style of a band that’s never been over-the-top about, well, anything. Low is essentially the band who is responsible for the term “softcore” and this album is a subtle commentary on the emotional fall-out of a nation filled with unrest. But you have to listen for it.
Those who have stuck it out with Low since the beginning are going to recognize the band’s sound immediately in these songs – despite the fact that they’ve actually made quite a departure from, say, the orchestral swoops of their early albums, or even the big loud sound of 2005’s The Great Destroyer. In fact, the sound of Drums and Guns is different enough to make everything that has come before seem like merely stops along the way. In the place of graceful crescendos and agonizingly paced lyrics we now have walls of sound that build and blow into distortion, seemingly endless tangible walls that drill their way into the inner ear in a way akin to white noise. Against this background of half-soothing, half-maddening drum loops and buzzes, Low fans will no doubt perk up and recognize the band’s trademark brand of moody, mellow vocal harmonies.
The first noticeable thing about those vocals, of course, is the bald violence of the lyrics. The opening track, “Pretty People,” sets the tone for what’s to come. The song’s lyrics are comprised of a list of people – from soldiers and poets to “the pretty ones” – who are all, quite simply, going to die. If that isn’t bleak enough, the song “Murderer” is also included in the set; this track was released in a quite different version on an EP some years back, so true Low fans will recognize the lyric. Of course, the fact that “Murderer” was written and released some time ago tells us that this sort of darkness isn’t necessarily something new for Low; but this time around the sound behind the words is quite different, resulting in an entirely new atmosphere that is unsettling and appropriate at the same time. It is sort of like watching The Wizard of Oz with the sound turned down and Pink Floyd on the stereo: all of a sudden those flying monkeys, while they were sort of scary to begin with, seem a lot more sinister.
So the question remains: is this evolution in sound a good thing for Low? The answer to that will depend on whether you’re in the camp of the “new Low” or the “old Low.” Since it’s virtually impossible to judge Drums and Guns based on the band’s earlier work, the best way to go about this is perhaps to look at it strictly as an album of its own. And seen that way, the truth is that what is being created here actually “works” about 70% of the time. On some tracks, particularly the sparser-sounding ones, the electronic buzz and repetitive drum loops can become downright distracting. “Take Your Time,” an otherwise gorgeous and haunting ballad with vocals that knock you back on your couch, is almost spoiled by a clicking drum beat. In fact, it kind of sounds like a bad sci-fi flick, or the audio version of Chinese water torture. Even “Murderer” has been toyed with in a way that suits the flavor of the album but spoils the song: gone is the haunting minimalist silence that backed the violent lyrics on the earlier recording, and in its place is the sound of synth and unnecessary guitar baggage.
What Low is attempting to accomplish with Drums and Guns is, in a way, exactly what I’ve described here: a sense of unsettlement and a disturbance from the typical pattern. And while as a whole the album pulls this off successfully, there are times when Drums and Guns is practically crying out for the carrying melody - the dreamy acquiescence of so much of the band’s earlier work. But longing for the past never led to any sort of progression, so perhaps the effort alone here is worth some praise. After all, for a “slowcore” band even to survive to an eighth album requires quite an amount of innovation and effort, and evolution isn’t always pretty. For what they’ve created here, which is yet another album that stretches the boundaries and sounds like nothing else out there, Low deserves some loyalty. They’ve got mine.
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