A memory: the Lowest of the Low
I have been a fan of the Lowest of the Low since they released Shakespeare My Butt back in 1993 (wow…has it been that long?). Back then, my friend Richard and I used to follow two bands regularly: the Low and Dig Circus. Dig Circus played more frequently in Toronto than the Low, but both bands were favourites of ours. I remember the poetry in the lyrics, and how Ron Hawkins had a way of writing that made me think he gets it.
When the Low broke up in 1994(ish) - and Dig Circus did the same at around the same I felt a certain sadness. Music is a very personal thing, because it can sink very deeply into your consciousness. I can hear songs from my teenage years and remember exactly what I was doing at the first moment I heard that song. So, when I realized that there would be no new music from the Lowest of the Low, I felt pretty let down. Because here was a band that was intelligent, poetic, honest, and literary, and I respected the artistry of their music and their performances. Of course what I couldn’t know was what was going on in the background that caused the break up.
I was quite happy when Ron Hawkins and his new band the Rusty Nails started playing (though they never played live quite often enough for my liking). Ron’s ability to manipulate words was intact, and this new band had a great mix of Punk, Folk and Swing music (all rolled into one).
When the Lowest of the Low reunited for 6 shows (3 in Toronto and 3 in Buffalo), I was quite happy. I hoped that they would reunite more permanently, and start making music regularly. In 2004 they released Sordid Fiction, which was a good album, if not their best. They started playing pretty regularly. And then, in November of last year, they announced their last show. They weren’t breaking up, they just weren’t scheduling any new shows. In a way, i can see why: the crowds who came to their shows were looking for nostalgia. They wanted to hear the songs they knew from Shakespeare my Butt and Halucigenia. They weren’t interested in the new songs. They wanted the songs that took them back to 1993. But the buys were able to still turn out some great songs. Songs that a lot of people missed at hte live shows because they were only paying attention when the songs they knew were played
At that last show, near the end of the set, Stephen Stanley got up and started to play a simple tune on his guitar, and he began to sing:
Analog used to crackle fine
And camouflage has been a friend of mine
And bending signals undefined
A slight of hand like turpentine
Backed by the rest of the band, he continued into the song, and I stood there at the Legendary Horseshoe Tavern and just…listened.
August 12, a New York City heat
Outside the phone booth where we used to meet
To never doubt the clouds that burst
A waterfall to quench your thirst
But the frequency fell out to rain clouds instead
And the newspaper spelled out this airwave is dead
I used to hang on every word that you said
I remember the first time I heard Ron Hawkins perform Subversives. Or Rumours and Whispers. It was the same feeling.
To catch a glimpse of everything you fear
And cut the cords that grin from there to here
These things aren’t always what they seem
When frozen still in headlight beams
But the frequency fell out to rain clouds instead
And the newspaper spelled out this airwave is dead
I used to hang on every word
Then the song was over. And for a moment, I didn’t do anything. I held my breath. It was as if I was holding onto the moment, not wanting the song to end. And then, finally, I exhaled. And I turned to Jenn (who had come to the show with me) and we both just said: Wow.
There was nothing else do say. The song ended, and the band moved on. And I kept wanting to find the song again. I’m waiting for Stephen Stanley to release it on a CD. Or perhaps to play it at a live gig again sometime.
To the beat of your transistor heart
Keeping time as the city lights fall dark
Here’s to the ones that burned out way too soon
Here’s to the names whispered in every room
Like fireflies caught under glass
That once were bring that burned out fast
But the frequency fell out to rain clouds instead
And the newspaper spelled out this airwave is dead
Rain clouds instead
Airwave is dead
You can hear Transistor Heart on Stephen Stanley’s myspace page.
I seem to have a very strange relationship with Fortune Cookies of late. Twice now, I’ve received some 
