In an unnerving mirror of technology’s impact on social interaction, music now appears to not only be bringing us together, but also to be pushing us further apart. Bands and pop groups have long been withering and fraying into obscurity as their members chase solo careers and new artists go it alone; music is now too becoming defined by solipsism under the supremacy of the solo artist. Having written and produced almost all of his debut album on his own, and having tracked almost all of the instruments, Low Hum would have been considered a curious maverick in the nascent days of psychedelic rock. Today, thanks to the mind blowing technology at new artists’ fingertips, he’s just another number in an ever-growing trend.
Low Hum may be causing a few ripples in LA and may have earned the odd play on Radio 1, but otherwise he exists on the distant periphery of the genre with an indie record deal and much mystery shrouding him as an individual. Room To Breathe is thus released with relatively little fanfare, to flourish or fall on its own merits.
The tone is set instantly with an exuberant, pulsating opening riff, which we hear first only faintly, as if we’re following its distant sound up a corridor to then twist a door handle and be welcomed into Low Hum’s emotive, radiant world. Its textured multi-coloured sound transmits a gorgeous slow euphoria, which then subsides as haunting yet soothing vocals wrap around you. While bands like Wooden Shjips and Moon Duo favour wide open spaces of sound that build gradually and test the listener with veers into unfamiliar terrain, Low Hum has more of a pop sensibility, drenching each song with melody and aural comfort.
‘I Don’t Know Me Like You Do’ covers you in melancholic waves of synth and bass, likely to make you ruminate on lost lovers; ‘Room to Breathe’ simmers delicately and then builds to a sweetly subtle chorus that sounds better win each greedily consumed replay; ‘Nebraska’ is so joyously fluid and silken that you can forgive how much it sounds like the one artist who practically falls onto the page whenever one writes about post-2010 psychedelic rock (look into the Innerspeaker for the few who don’t know who that is). At certain moments he stutters: ‘Strange Love’ feels a little saccharine with a chorus that lacks the deft craft of melody of his better work; ‘Crimson Cardinal’ is crowded with sound and as a result loses all of its potency, though ‘Comatose’ ensures he departs on an ethereal flourish.
This is an album you have to live with for a few days to fully appreciate, preferably over a series of bright spring afternoons or after a storm when the water vapour lingers long in the air. Though he is a little too hesitant to make inventive sidesteps and wears his influences brazenly on his sleeve, this is a psychedelic pop record with a lot to offer and a lot to say for the merits of an artist having an authoritarian control over their creative process.
Room To Breathe is released on 7 June 2019 via Last Gang Records.
