Superfans coerce Low into releasing 'super weird' B-sides boxed set

All three members of Low are in this house, yet I can't get the attention of one of them.

Guitarist Alan Sparhawk was up late with his 1-month-old son, Cyrus, so although it's 1 p.m., Sparhawk's eating breakfast -- something gray and mushy.

Sparhawk's wife, drummer Mimi Parker, is showering.

Bassist Zak Sally is talking on his cell phone.

Cyrus is snoozing in a living room carpeted with balloons and stuffed animals.

It's just me and Cyrus' 4-year-old sister, Hollis, whose jam toast has left its mark across her cheeks. She is sweet and charming but I'm not sure she's got much information about Low's new B-side compilation.

Could these possibly be the same people who opened for Radiohead last summer? Is this really how indie rockers live? Are Low's brooding, introspective tracks inspired by infant swings and Cream of Wheat?

And is my voice a dog whistle?

As much as this afternoon meets not one preconceived notion about glamorous indie rock lifestyles, this seems to truly be what Low's about. They're not trying desperately to be cool, or trying desperately to be ironically uncool.

Their priority is creating artistic music without compromising their personal lives. Coolness is merely an afterthought. Which somehow, makes them really cool.

Low slips into Willie Nelson's boots to headline the Green Man Festival Saturday night (he canceled due to carpal tunnel surgery). Chances are the band will play a few cuts off ``A Lifetime of Temporary Relief,'' a compilation of B-sides and rarities to be released Tuesday. The compilation marks the band's 10th year together.

``All along we never had any grand vision of where the band was going ...'' Sparhawk says. ``Every step along the way was a surprise. Ten years makes me go: `Wow, most bands don't last that long. What are we doing?'''

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FANS FORCED ISSUE

Since the Duluth band started recording in 1994, Low has had a string of critically successful albums, including 1995's ``Long Division'' and ``Things We Lost in the Fire'' in 2001.

When Low first emerged, its music was like the soundtrack for a snow globe. Despite being way, way off the Top 40 path, Low's drowsy, heavily instrumental music gained national attention with a cult following and critical praise in publications such as the New York Times and Spin magazine. Over the years, the band has experimented with faster tempos and songs that could even be described as slightly upbeat.

After 10 years, some Low fans apparently aren't above resorting to underhanded tactics to get more from the band. Fans threatened via the Internet to compile a B-sides collection themselves if the band didn't get off its proverbial duff.

That forced Low to dig up and sort out boxes of dusty old recordings and compile ``A Lifetime of Temporary Relief.''

Parker says she wasn't angry, but at the same time wanted to maintain artistic control over how the band's music was presented. It is, after all, why Low is on the independent Chairkickers Music label.

The three-disc compilation is chronological and includes rare singles, songs Low has contributed to compilation albums such as ``Duluth Does Dylan,'' British releases and even a cheese-a-rific Journey cover that was a wedding gift for a friend. The compilation also includes a DVD featuring Low's videos and some documentary material.

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SET SHOWS EVOLUTION

Don't expect a greatest hits album. Rather, the new collection is designed for longtime fans interested in the band's development and/or hard-to-find material.

``We thought it was too difficult to sort through it and decide what's good. Good to who?'' Sparhawk asks.

``Some stuff was better than I remembered it,'' Sparhawk says. ``Some stuff still sucks.''

``That's the charm of it,'' Parker says.

Band members alternately describe the cuts as ``super weird,'' ``funny'' and ``really, really creepy.''

The first and earliest disc contains the least professional recording, the slowest tempos and the most spare tracks, often consisting of little more than a few guitar plucks and Parker's voice, the essence of a ghost crying in an attic. This is the disc where its easiest to see the band's maturation, from a demo of ``Prisoner'' that starts with nearly two minutes of gonging, to the final recording where the gong is replaced with a droning guitar.

The second disc is more honed, though there are still quirks, like the 31-second song ``Try Try Try.'' Sparhawk's vocals and Sally's bass have more presence, and there's a more pervasive British pop influence.

The third disc is probably the most palatable for broader audiences, including cover tunes such as ``Surfer Girl'' and ``Blowin' in the Wind,'' as well as some more humorous and personal tracks, such as ``Don't Drop the Baby'' recorded for Parker's sister.

Low won't tour heavily on the new boxed set, but will rather wait until its next record of new material comes out in January.

Low members are still figuring out the logistics of the tour -- doing six- to eight-hour drives and sound checks while getting two kids to bed on time. In another year, Hollis will be in kindergarten. Her parents are discussing home schooling. Although they don't want Hollis and Cyrus to grow up in clubs, they also believe they're fortunate to spend so much time together as a family.

``We know it's not going to be easy,'' Sparhawk says.

``But we'll just take it as it comes,'' Parker adds.

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MUSIC, FAME NOT SAME

The same laissez-faire attitude carries over to the band's future. As the band ages -- Sparhawk and Parker are now 36, and Sally is 32 -- the business plan is still, well, nonexistent.

Parker says being on tour with Radiohead made her realize Low would never attain that level of celebrity -- and that's just fine.

``It made us feel what we do is great, playing for people where we can see all their faces,'' says Sally, who lives in Minneapolis.

Sparhawk says he's hardly a rich man, but music is paying the bills.

``Making a living at music is a lot more independent from fame than people think,'' he says. ``There are people who are famous, yet can't afford crack. If you can afford crack, you are obviously successful.''

Sparhawk is obviously joking. He and Parker are Mormons, so they don't do drugs, drink alcohol, smoke or even perform on the Sabbath.

Seriously, Parker says, Low is successful because the band has hours and hours of music all its members take pride in and love.

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POP FLAVORS

And there's more new music to come.

Low members expect a yet untitled CD of fresh material to come out in January. Sally says by August they'll finish work with Dave Fridman, a New York City producer who works with The Flaming Lips.

Expect the disc to snap and crackle with pop. Although Low's last few releases have included a token pop song or two, Sparhawk said half of this disc will be more traditional pop verse-and-melody songs.

Though they'll probably get criticism for not staying true to the early Low sound, band members said they can't base their art on what fans think, and can't keep making the same record.

``If you chase a perception of what you used to be or what people think you should be ...'' Sparhawk starts.

``You're doomed,'' Sally finishes.