I took a personal day today because I hadn’t taken any this year and the past few weeks or even month I had just been struggling to keep up with things (and not sleeping well), so sure enough when I woke up after luxuriously sleeping until 10:30am I felt a little congested. I had dreamed that I was visiting Kincardine by myself for some reason (I was driving, in the dream), and was wandering around the downtown area when I ran into Low, who had set up a little booth where they were recording songs with individual fans as part of a drive to get people signed up to vote. I wound up chatting with Alan Sparhawk (who in my dream was actually partially Alan and partially an old philosophy prof of mine, visually and in terms of personal history, so we sort of knew each other) and of course I wanted to record a cover, but while I was struggling to pick a song he stepped away for a moment to talk to someone else.
Queue a dream-hour of me trying to get my goddamn phone to bring up one Low album or another. I’d forget the name of the album I was looking for. I would try and google “low discography” and at the last moment autocorrect would change “low” to “unco.” (and my phone was loading everything super slow, to boot). In the dream there was never any urgency to it; the band weren’t getting annoyed, were clearly there all day and would be happy to do a song with me, in fact they wanted to make sure I’d pick out the one I really wanted to do since I’d only get one shot. I eventually gave up on my phone and wound up leafing through a giant book with yellowed pages, which contained lyrics and information on all of their work. I opened it in the middle, knowing where in their discography likely albums were, but whether I went forward or backward all I found was listings for 7″s, compilation appearances, collaborative releases, and small scale projects I’d never heard of. Lewd Room? Slime Wife? A news item about their small imprint Southern Heat shutting down? A student newspaper end-of-year list which gave pride of place to Greys? All of these had album art, of course.
At some point I knew I was looking for that one album I didn’t really love that had just one song on it in the middle that was one of my favourites (nb. this description corresponds with zero Low albums in the waking world, I wonder what band I was thinking of), the one with the brown, richly textured album art that reminds me of Nadja’s Queller (ed.: again, nope). I did, at some point just before I woke up with the band still happily waiting for me to pick a song, find a page for that imaginary album, and spent what felt like ten minutes staring at the list of songs, unable to remember which was the one that moved me so much. I wish I could remember that set of song names, because it was a feast.
If I had the chance in the real world, I would probably pick (in descending order of confidence in my voice that day) “Sunflower” or “In the Drugs” or “Venus” or “Pissing”.