Low made their bones creating nothing out of something. Back in indie rock's 1990s heyday, when college radio still held a little cultural weight, they were make-out music for folks who couldn't bother to leave the dorm. The Minnesota band's spare, glacial, white-on-white sound could only come from a state where winters routinely dip to 30 below and emotional restraint is bred into the population. Low's early records were the sound of no hands strumming, mumbles of hope and despair from two devout, married Mormons and a bassist who drew underground comix in his spare time. (I mean, how many subcultures does... More >>>