The death of Mimi Parker has shook me a bit more than I anticipated. I mean—or course I now regret even more missing Low's last Bay Area show, but it's not like I am a Low completist or even know their work all that well. I love C'mon, and Christmas is deeply important to my annual traditions, but I'm still justabouta buy their latest.
(In a stupid way, they're still one of those 90s monosyllabic l-word bands [Len, Lit, Live, Low, Lush]—although they were the one I never heard on the radio but that I've come to know best—a band whose albums I saw for sale but never took the leap on. I sometimes wonder . . . if I had bought Secret Name a couple decades ago, what else might have been different?)
But I have been listening to them regularly for over a decade now and they were good enough to let me include them in Fearreantum and everything I saw or read endeared them to me as human beings.
And so, while I can't write anything as lovely as what Jacob wrote, I did read and appreciate what he wrote and ever since I've had this song in my head:
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