Low, Classic Grand, Glasgow

Last time they were in Glasgow I saw Low play a Christmas show; they marred their almost perfect live reputation with some cod reggae and left me disappointed. Tonight they redeem themselves. Since then they have been lauded by Robert Plant (he covered ‘Silver Rider’ and ‘Monkey’ for his Band Of Joy album, to much acclaim) and released their ninth album, ‘C’Mon’. Any changes to Low’s formula are always subtle; their long career has been about refining their delicately balanced and deeply human music.

Alan Sparhawk is the dramatic centre of the show and his intense approach to singing and playing are a focal point; Mimi Parker’s solid backing is a controlling presence from behind her minimal drum kit, Steve Garrington remains on bass but the line-up has been expanded to a four-piece with the addition of a new keyboard player. The songs from ‘C’mon’, which make up the bulk of the set, move away from outward looking predecessor ‘Drums And Guns’ and focus on more personal issues.

‘Breaker’, with its funerary organ, is a perfect example of the delicate line between sadness and beauty which Low’s music always follows. The sinister rumble of ‘Monkey’ is genuinely threatening, particularly when accompanied by Sparhawk’s array of guitar faces, and, at their best, they demonstrate a finely calibrated sensitivity; particularly on ‘Silver Rider’, where Parker’s harmonies restore warmth to the stark soundscape.

Tonight’s sole heckle – complimenting the keyboard player on his glasses – prompts a rare comment from Sparhawk: ‘After 18 years we get a fourth member and then we get a compliment – you’re fired!’ He may doubt the sincerity of the crowd, but if they’re reticent it is only because they are in awe.

‘Witches’, all contained fury, tells of a baseball bat hiding under the bed waiting for “all you guys out there trying to act like Al Green”. ‘Especially Me’, the new album’s centrepiece reels you in with Parker’s hypnotic vocal and Sparhawk’s $20, with it’s “My love is for free” refrain, is classic slow-burn Low. Another highlight from ‘C’Mon’, ‘Majesty/Magic’ conjures a stately Egyptian throne room perhaps, the drums heralding a mighty presence. ‘Nightingale’ sounds like a straight lullaby in contrast to the austere but effecting ‘Nothing But Heart’.

‘Murderer’ closes the main set, introduced as “about countries that celebrate in the streets when they assassinate people.” It’s the apex of the sinister disquiet that this band are so good at creating. When they’re done, 100 minutes of repressed applause erupts from the crowd; while the band were still on the stage no one had dared to cheer this loud.

They return for ‘Sunflower’, from ‘Things We Lost In the Fire’ which is the tune I’d use to explain what makes Low great: their harmonies, their imagery and their self-control. Augmented with keyboards it sounds less minimal than the new stuff. Another older song, ‘Canada’, has an almost conventional build up of noise and a driving beat, but is still an exercise in restraint.

Finale ‘When I Go Deaf’, has to compete with the bar tills cashing up, but can’t fail to be beautiful and direct. Sparhawk thanks the audience and then his tone barely alters as he says: “Deep down inside I wish I could shove a knife into every one of your throats.” Behind him Parker’s face is horror-struck and she speedily implies he is joking but it is this tension, this underlying sense of danger, that makes the quiet awesome beauty of Low’s music so profound.