It’s no insult to credit Low with a uniquely narcotic effect, even among the lulling elite. The Duluth, Minn., group has never cottoned to dwelling in the navelcore ghetto, locked in some 4AD sub-basement by listeners who hear ambience rather than ambivalence spinning from Low’s husband-and-wife-and-oh-yeah-we-have-a-bass-player-too axis. In fact, it’s more than mere matrimony that should ensconce Low alongside arty couples-therapy groups Sonic Youth and Yo La Tengo. All three outfits have perfected reassuringly recognizable sounds and have earned unconditional support from pedigreed fans. All three are serial collaborators and/or reliable EP enthusiasts. And none of the three would work without its respective guitarists’ specific attacks, each leaving a thumbprint that sometimes obscures the songs. But despite the relative volume and speed of Low’s fellows, it’s that group’s Alan Sparhawk whose guitar lays a foundation for resolution rather than indulging in sobbing feedback. You could argue that he has no choice as long as he adheres to Low’s minimalist blueprint, but no one said Low is done building. Close inspection of Trust (Kranky), Low's sixth album, proves Sparhawk has knocked down a few walls and is expanding his base outward rather than adding stories. The resulting tension is that of someone trying futilely to find a favorite room in his house, someplace he can finally relax. You might fall asleep listening to Low, but you can’t be sure where you’ll wake up or whether it’ll be light out.

The night before leaving to tour Spain for the first time, Sparhawk talked to MAGNET about exorcising his guitar demons and making ends meet.

Are you bringing your daughter to Spain?
No, we’re leaving her with family.

Any wisdom in the advice Bono reportedly gave Peter Buck about hiring two nannies?
I don’t know. Was one for him? That sounds like a good idea if you can afford it, but we do just fine with one nanny. He’s a fan, a friend. It’s a lot of sitting in the van. He’s bored out of his mind. He would love to come to the shows instead of staying at the hotel.

Are you still happy in Duluth?
When we first started the band, we thought we might be more tapped into the scene based in New York or Minneapolis. Right away, we were lucky to find our mode of getting it out there everywhere, though—namely a record company that put us out. From there, it’s just touring, and Duluth is perfect. We can go for three weeks and do the East Coast, then three weeks on the West Coast, go to Florida or Texas to play in the winter in Florida. When you’re based in New York, that’s quite a journey.

It sounds like touring is still fun for you.
Well, in Europe, they put you up and pay you and arrange for your equipment and everything, so it’s nice to be able to take advantage of that. Here, it’s a matter of having fans in different places, friends in just about every town we’ve played who are good references on where to go eat. Sometimes it works out that people put you up. Somewhere toward the end of the set, you announce you need a place to stay. Every once in a while you sleep on a dorm-room floor.

Gerry Beckley of the group America seems an unlikely guest for Low.
To make a long story short, two years ago, I met Gerry. I was working backstage at a summer concert in town. People in town know I have a van and don’t have a regular job, so they asked me if I could pick up America. I thought it was the polite thing to do to also pick up a disc from the band. I gave him one of our CDs, too. He recognized the name and had heard about us. When I sent them on their way, I thought, “That’s another CD that’ll get listened to once.” He called later and said he really liked the disc. He’ll call me sometimes and ask me what’s going on in music. A year ago, I told him to go out and get the Flaming Lips record, and that’s all he could talk about for months. For a ‘70s soft-rock icon or epitome, he’s actually into new music and has a great respect for stuff. It floors me that this guy likes our songs. We’ll sit and talk about harmony and songwriting. I said we’d be recording soon, and he started hinting that he wanted to do something, so we arranged to have him sing some harmonies using the wonders of technology, sending tapes back and forth.

Where do you primarily record now?
We tracked most of the record here in Duluth. We still have a home studio, and this is kind of an expansion of it. We pooled some resources with friends in town and pieced together a full-on 24-track studio.

What led you to work with Tchad Blake this time?
I’m a big fan of his stuff and had sent him some of our music. He seemed interested but was always busy. Eventually he said he could put together some time to mix an album for us if we did all the tracking, so that made it possible. I don’t think we would have been able to afford him to sit down and work for a month, which would have been fast for what he normally does. We did the laborious part ourselves.

Did you spend more time on this album?
We’d been writing since before the last record came out. We started tracking at the end of February this year and worked two or three days a week for a month and a half.

Is your songwriting approach much different now?
I’ve learned the best things happen when I try to come up with a vocal phrase and a melody at the same time and record the two backing that up. Anytime you come up with, “Wow, that’s a cool chord sequence,” or, “Hey, that’s a nice phrase or good lyrics,” it never ends up coming together. We struggled with that for years. After a long time, I said, “Wait a minute. The only ones that are working are the ones where I stumbled across a phrase or a melody.

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