The Mint, Los Angeles, CA
Monday, 2 November 1998
I have a lump in my throat the size and shape of my heart and I fear I shall soon need to breathe again. Not because of some hidden, dark, secret hope of mine to pass breathless beyond this bustling world, but because lifting my chest a few short centimeters to inhale will disrupt the spell I have so willingly given myself unto...
That's what was going through my mind a little over two weeks ago when I was sitting at the Mint listening to Low's sinuous harmonies wash over me. I debated whether I would write this up at all, given recent distractions and lack of available time, but in quiet moments I've found my mind wandering back to that feeling, haunted by some images that want to be written. Forgive me. For my delay. For sharing something that's rather personal. This may be the last time I write about Low.
Thank goodness we got to the club early and managed to nestle snugly into the corner. Sometimes, you need the support of two walls surrounding you. From the first few notes, it became clear to me again why I am so drawn to Low's music, which is at once a cure and a tender affliction. Something which can soothe the sharp, vicious blows the world often doles out. Something calming like lullabies that easily paint a heavy slumber over careless harried agitation. Something that lives in places which transcend geography - places which you can feel, which your eye may only grab a piece of as you tumble forth through time.
Something smoother and more secret than swimming underwater in the darkness. Something like watching your breath sweetly grace a frosty window, then seeing it retrace its minute steps as winter slowly wins out and the glass forgets your foggy signature. It's the warm rumbling in your chest as you hum quietly to yourself while exhaling with your eyes closed. Or maybe it's the subtle ripples a crinkled leaf makes as it gently brushes the surface of a pond when the tree no longer needs its service.
It's those images and more that casually dragged around my mind two weeks ago as those peaceful slow melodies subtly roped in my heart and pulled it steadily north. All of the things that were bothering me - all of those ugly, nagging things - slowly wandered far, far from the foreground as my heart journeyed closer to my mind and I succumbed to Low's soft sonic calmness. But in the end, I took that breath. Unfortunately, more often than is pleasant, desirable, or fair, the real world ends up winning out over bliss.
"The sea is a long, long way from me.
- Richard Lewis