Alan Sparhawk review at Brudenell Social Club: 'A metal God venturing into hip-hop'

Dressed in denim dungarees, and backed by similarly attired son Cyrus on bass, Sparhawk forgoes his trademark guitar in order to operate electronics, most notably liberally applied autotune, during the opening sequence of harsh digital blues drawn from White Roses, My God.

The former singer – guitarist of revered Duluth, Minnesota’s alt. rock institution Low (who were regular visitors to the Brudenell) bounces around the stage, exchanging fist-bumps with fans in the front row and occasionally giving the impression that he’s staring down some unseen adversary.

With an unruly mess of hair covering his face and a bulky mustache, Sparhawk resembles a Metal god who has opted to venture into hip hop-influenced electronic beats and vocal effects at their most forebodingly claustrophobic.

Once Sparhawk picks up the guitar and switches the autotune off, we are reminded of the tragic reasons for White Roses, My God’s excursions into abstract outpourings of furious, clattering angst.

On the new album, it’s hard to clearly decipher the lyrics to the gospel-tinged Heaven.

Backed only with a sparsely plucked guitar and a fluid bassline, and with Sparhawk’s voice finally free to soar naturally, the song becomes an almost uncomfortably raw and transparently wounded monument to the unmeasurable loss Sparhawk and his family experienced when Mimi Parker (Sparhawk’s wife and other half in Low for three decades) passed away from cancer almost exactly two years ago from tonight’s performance.

“Heaven, it’s a lonely place to be if you’re alone/I want to be there with the people that I love…who’s gonna be there,” Sparhawk sings, the song’s vulnerable longing suggesting that perhaps a more heavily disguised musical persona was needed to channel Sparhawk’s grief and internal turmoil before venturing publicly into such emotionally naked territory.

In any case, it should be a criminal offence to distort the kind of vocal prowess that Sparhawk demonstrates tonight with any digital interference.

At the end of Screaming Song (another boldly direct expression of unfathomable loss and grief, with heartbreaking visions of a soul leaving by flying out of a window), Sparhawk sustains a long anguished note for what seems like an impossibly long time, his voice clearly audible to the furthest reaches of the packed venue even as Sparhawk retreats as far from the microphone as the Brudenell stage allows.

Having been fully on Sparhawk’s side from the start, the sold-out crowd listen raptly (and react rapturously) as the two Sparhawks on stage work their way through what could be Sparhawk’s next solo album (reportedly ready to go), alongside two superb tunes released in 2023 by funk-influenced side project Derecho Rhythm Section.

If songs like JCMF (an equal parts brutal and hopeful vision of the second coming, set to a bruised blues crawl) and Don’t Take Your Light Out Of Me (a slow motion prayer for not letting go of love) are anything to go by, Sparhawk’s next album could be one of the landmark releases of 2025.

The evening’s sole nod towards the vast back catalogue of Low arrives with the closing White Horses, with Sparhawk managing to instigate the kind of a spirited singalong that had eluded the audience during the slow-burn mantra of Get High.

“Ask your friends if they are OK. They will hate you for it sometimes, but ask them anyway”, Sparhawk urges during one of his friendly and warm exchanges with audience members.

As difficult as it must be to get up on stage without his former musical and life partner to perform songs drenched in loss, grief and longing, tonight’s by turns challenging, cathartic and deeply moving performance gives every impression that playing music in front of a supportive crowd is a healthy, possibly even therapeutic experience for Sparhawk.