Low
A Lifetime of Temporary Relief
Chairkickers' Music

The very nature of a box set collection implies obsession. The artist (or in the case of a dead artist, the record company or archivist or whoever) is surely obsessed enough to pore over years' worth of music — previously unreleased tracks, first takes, outtakes, remixes, live versions, instrumental versions, a capella versions, remastered versions, etc. What long-hidden or out-of-print gem not already on an album or single can possibly be tucked away on some dust-encrusted tape? And who's the nut who wants three CDs (plus a DVD) of such rarities, even though he or she already owns more than half the stuff on singles, EPs, 7-inches, bootlegs and mp3s?

A Lifetime of Temporary Relief: 10 Years of B-sides & Rarities from Low, the Duluth, Minn., trio adored by introverted, patient-to-a-fault music lovers, is painstakingly complete and not recommended for non-Low obsessors. Listening to a standard Low full-length alone requires the utmost patience — imagine what more than 50 tracks must take. Low has spent the past 10 years perfecting and experimenting with the aptly dubbed slowcore that is the band's monopolized niche. Singer Alan Sparhawk and wife Mimi Parker (who drums and sings) are partial to repeating single lines ad nauseum over bassist Zak Sally's plods. The results, contrary to expectation, are seldom dull.

Low may be notorious for making music that flows like molasses, but all the time spent drawing melodies out to almost forever doesn't leave its songs thin. Like snails and kaleidoscopes, slow movement and the slightest turns reveal glistening trails and subtly beautiful shifts of pattern.

Still, no one should try uncovering every intricacy of A Lifetime in a single sitting. Try A Lifetime over an entire lifetime or at least over the next 10 years — as long as it took Low to compile these songs, which are arranged, more or less, chronologically over three discs. (The fourth disc is a DVD of videos of and by the band.) From the first track, a demo of "Lullaby" (the finished version is on the band's 1994 debut, I Could Live in Hope), to the final, an alternate version of Trust's "Shots & Ladders" that trudges even more than the album's version, Low's craft, if gradual, is easy to appreciate. If there's one band that can make an infinite number of combinations from a mere handful of sounds, it's Low.

On disc one (most of it, actually), there's signature Low with "Tired," which sounds exactly as its title suggests, and the breathtaking, pastoral "The Plan (demo)," in which Parker sends shivers with her shimmering vocals over a gently twanging guitar. Both takes of "Prisoner" plod, and "Turning Over" and "Walk You Out" swell with the same mournful intensity of any creeper from 1996's monolithic The Curtain Hits the Cast (from which these tracks are outtakes).

Disc two starts with the decidedly poppy and charming "Venus" (found also on the live album One More Reason to Forget) before returning to Low-trodden territory with "Boyfriends & Girlfriends." "No Need (Version 1)" is a pretty litany of things Sparhawk doesn't need, followed by soundalike "Be There" (a relatively catchier version is on the Songs for a Dead Pilot EP). On the faithful and cautious cover of the Beatles' "Long Long Long," Sparhawk and Parker's vocals curl around each other the way only intimately involved people's voices can, rarely surpassing the volume of bedroom whispers. This is one of a bevy of covers, mostly found on disc three, including a fantastic, Low-ly version of Soul Coughing's "Blue-Eyed Devil," the Beach Boys' "Surfer Girl" as a lullaby, and Pink Floyd's "Fearless" done to a perfect T. (Sparhawk claims in the liner notes, "You could play this song on a kazoo and it would still be good.") Other covers include songs by Wire, the Bee Gees, Spacemen 3, John Denver, Bob Dylan, Tom T. Hall, Jandek, the Smiths and Journey (yes, that Journey).

And this still leaves room for plenty of original tracks, which range from the incredibly striking ("Tomorrow One," "Last Breath") to the absolutely absurd ("Don't Drop the Baby").

For even the most ardent Low listeners, this box set (in all its packaging design perfection) will overwhelm, and the DVD, gorgeous as parts of it may be, doesn't cater to this reviewer's ADD. But, as an artifact from a band that took on the challenge of creating the shaggiest dog story ever (Low was founded as a joke), A Lifetime successfully delivers, punchline notwithstanding (unless you count the Journey cover, which is pretty damn funny).

— Lavina Lee (lavina at flakmag dot com)