Low was labeled as a slowcore act early in its existence, but the group has spent the past 22 years expanding upon its signature, sparse sound. After going back to basics with producer Jeff Tweedy on its 2013 release The Invisible Way, the band's latest record, Ones and Sixes, finds the trio exploring new ways to present its haunting harmonies. Ahead of Low's performance at Thalia Hall, we spoke with songwriter and guitarist Alan Sparhawk about hanging out in Justin Vernon's studio and the importance of a great producer.
The Invisible Way came about after you were invited to tour Wilco’s loft studio. What was the impetus for Ones and Sixes?
It was almost the same scenario. BJ Burton, who is an engineer at [Bon Iver frontman Justin Vernon’s recording studio] April Base, reached out to us and offered a tour. I ended up working on a record with Trampled By Turtles and BJ was the engineer, so we got to know each other. By the time we finished that record, I was pretty sure this was who we needed to work with.
What was it like recording in Justin Vernon’s hideout in Eau Claire, Wisconsin?
We were in there for two or three days at a time, and Justin was working on his stuff in the other studio. [Wilco drummer] Glenn Kotche was there playing percussion on another record, so he came in and added some stuff to a few of our tracks. We sometimes showed up a few hours after people that are too big for me to legally mention left the studio. It’s out in the countryside, the sound is great—they have a pretty great thing going there.
The production really shines through on Ones and Sixes. What inspired you to experiment a bit more on this album?
I think sometimes we’ll pursue a certain vibe for a while and then once we’ve reached the peak, we tend to take a jarring turn in a different direction. With The Invisible Way, I felt that we explored the reach of a certain direction and finished that puzzle, so to speak. Having access to someone who is very brave and experimental is crucial. Once it seemed like BJ was the right person, I was able to finish up a lot of the writing, feeling confident that we would be able to blow it open a bit more. There’s something liberating about being able to move on to the next phase.
A few of the tracks seem to sonically reference previous Low records. Was that something you were conscious of?
It’s never conscious. It’s really frustrating to write, and I usually feel relieved when I come up with 12 songs I can stand. At any given time, there’s a general feel to whatever songs I have that are new. Honestly, I don’t think I have the luxury of consciously going in a direction. I don’t write enough to feel like I have much control over the message I want to send.
Jeff Tweedy and BJ Burton were obviously fans of Low before they produced your records. How much does that factor into your decision to work with a producer?
I think everybody we’ve ever worked with have been fans. Even someone like [producer Steve] Albini, whose general vibe and legend is that he doesn’t get too excited about anybody’s band. He had come and seen us play and I had conversations with him—I don’t want to let the secret out that he actually does this, but he compliments people sometimes. If you respect a person and get a sense that they know where you’re coming from, that’s the door. There’s so much you can let go of creatively in the studio if you have that.
Is that why you’ve never self-produced a Low album?
I like having someone else who will cover a certain set of skills that we don’t have. I don’t think it’s a lack of confidence—it’s a large task putting [an album] together and it’s too much for only one person’s perspective. If you can trust the person behind the desk to tell you to do another take, and respect that they’re right, then you can concentrate on just making music. That’s huge.
Low + Andy Schauf play at Thalia Hall on September 19.