Slept On: Lowlife

In this and further Slept On installments, we'll be shouting out bands past and present (but mostly the former) who never received their due.

I was stunned when I first heard about Lowlife. It wasn't that I was surprised to learn that there was another excellent, gloomy dream-pop band from Scotland I'd never heard of - it was the fact that this particular band featured none other than Will Heggie, architect of the stark, echoing basslines which dominated the Cocteau Twins' early releases which knocked me on my back. Rather daftly, I'd assumed that Heggie had simply faded into the woodwork after leaving Robin Guthrie and Elizabeth Fraser to develop the glorious, chiming mellifluousness that became their signature sound. In actuality, it turns out that Heggie signed on with a rockabilly band to fill in on bass for some tour dates and recording sessions, then afterwards opted to forge onward with them in an entirely different direction, more in keeping with his previous tenure. Ignorance aside, I couldn't help but have high expectations when I snagged Godhead, Lowlife's third full-length from 1989. Undiscovered (by me) Cocteaus-related work? This had better be good.

I needn't have worried. Lowlife's discography quickly rose above my expectations, and became a hypnotic, multi-faceted jewel in my record collection.

After Rain, a solid EP of galloping post-punk (somewhere between U2 and Skeletal Family), shit got darkly dreamy with debut LP Permanent Sleep. The band's similarity with the Cocteaus is, perhaps expectedly, most noticeable on this early work. The swishy rhythms of tracks like "Mother Tongue" quickly call Heggie's earlier work on tracks like "But I'm Not" and "Shallow Then Halo" from the Cocteau's Garlands. Permanent Sleep is a generally dour affair, with very little light ever penetrating the waves of melancholy which roll over the album with a weary tempo. Sophomore full-length "Dimminuendo" brims with confidence, even if that confidence manifests as wistful contemplation. It's here that comparisons with Echo could be made, but singer Craig Lorentson's voice is of an entirely different cast than Ian McCulloch's. A deep baritone, Lorentson's voice was often mixed to the forefront of Lowlife's records, giving just about everything set to tape a magisterial, if mournful feel.

While there's some critical consensus holding up "Dimminuendo" as Lowlife's best work, I opt for their subsequent album, "Godhead". It is an aching, glowing thing of beauty. When I was in my early teens I bought records rather rarely (compared to my current collecting), and those which I did often turned out to foundational life-changers: "Disintegration", "Substance" (both of them), "The Queen Is Dead". Those records demanded to be listened to ad nauseum, no note or detail going unnoticed or unabsorbed, each lyric striking a chord if only for verbalizing sentiments I'd only just discovered. "Godhead" hearkens back to those days, and reminds me of a time when there was much less music around me, but that which there was mattered so much more. It's a strange thing to encounter music like that in the almost curatorial process of mining through the also-rans and never-weres of a genre one's achieved a pedestrian familiarity with. Lowlife make me feel as though I'm hearing this sort of music - sad, expressive dream pop - for the first time again.

A fourth album, "San Antorium", added some brighter sparkles to the formula. A reissue campaign has brought Lowlife's first four LPs, bolstered with "Rain" and plenty of singles, remixes and session tracks back into circulation, along with a nineteen-track "introduction to" CD. Extensive liner notes by Brian Guthrie, the band's manager (and, yes, Robin's brother) add to the reissues' strength. No info on whether the band's final album, "Gush", will be getting the same treatment. There's also an excellent archival website with plenty of info for the newcomer to boot.

This is gorgeous stuff, people. Don't let it pass you by.

Lowlife, "Hollow Gut"


Lowlife, "Bittersweet"