Pitchfork

Despite a lifetime of evidence to the contrary, dolorous slowcore mainstays Low do have a sense of humor. Beyond the usual, self-deprecating inter-song concert banter, they've gone so far as to perform fan favorites "Words", "Turn" and "Over the Ocean" as The Misfits, during a 1998 Halloween concert in L.A. (an MP3 of the set is available from Low's website, and comes strongly recommended). But with the band's dogged pursuit of barely awake bliss, it's no surprise they've had trouble conveying levity without sacrificing their signature gravity, and such outbursts are few and far between. Low long ago painted themselves into a stylistic corner, using the side-project/guest spot escape hatch to satisfy any contrary impulses.

Low's monastic restraint has advantages, as fans can fearlessly purchase their records, safe in the knowledge that Low will never lose it or blow it, since "it" will never change. The band's single-mindedness also invites critical superlatives like "staunch" and "unwavering," but on the opposite side of both coins is incredulity, fueled by a largely indistinguishable catalog of what some would call tedious records. From their halcyon days as a reactionary calm amid the grunge storm, Low's first three full-lengths offered some startling, gorgeous hymns, but they were generally sequenced upfront, and prefaced a side-two reservoir of relative filler. One could hardly expect a three-disc set of Low's castoffs, demos and flipsides to dazzle, which is a caveat the band drive home with the alarming tape hiss that opens A Lifetime of Temporary Relief.

The home-recorded demos spread across disc one of this set resurrect the desolate sound Low had toyed with from the beginning, before Kramer took them on as Galaxie 500 Mk II (a tag that dogged Low for as long as they worked with the Shimmy-Disc producer). Clearly, Low are out to make a case for their long-time love of analog grit, a bare-bones approach many felt they'd co-opted on 1997's Songs for a Dead Pilot, a stark, barely produced EP released at the peak of post-rock's popularity. As testimony, Temporary Relief's first disc is a success, carefully explaining over the course of 17 tracks that Low had a different sound in mind all along, and had opted for crystalline production and Caroline Records to see where it would take them. As it turned out, that decision eventually took Low back where they'd started, to a house in Duluth, as awful, hideously dated "electronica" remixes of their Caroline material played in Gap outlets nationwide.

As you'd expect, Low enjoyed a creative flourish after leaving Caroline for Kranky, continuing down the more dramatic path Steve Fisk helped pave with his production of Low's excellent 1996 album, The Curtain Hits the Cast. The celebrated Sub Pop single "Venus"/"Boyfriends & Girlfriends" that opens disc two is Low at their best, and leaves a seemingly insurmountable wake for the remaining 15 tracks to crest. Remarkably, a number of these rarities are up to the task, including the ghostly UK-only version of "Be There" from the "Over the Ocean" CD single, a grand demo of "Lion/Lamb" (from the uneven Secret Name LP), and the bounding closer "Those Girls", an open-tuned daydream from the overlooked 2001 k./Low split EP (unfortunately, a dry cover of Spacemen 3's "Lord Can You Hear Me?" forestalls this fine conclusion).

Disc three puts some bold moves up front, opening with a disconnected drum machine demo of "I Remember" from Secret Name, then going for the counterpoint jugular with the a cappella "Kindly Blessed", contributed to the Unaccompanied Voice compilation. The awkward start derails this set, which includes a number of unremarkable cover versions: "Surfer Girl", "Blowin' in the Wind" and The Smiths' "Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me" gain nothing from Low's treatment-- though their version of Soul Coughing's "Blue-Eyed Devil" is a stupendous juxtaposition of two wildly incongruous acts. Buffered by a blissed-out collaboration with Piano Magic and the otherwise non-existent Transient Waves ("Sleep at the Bottom"), the great choruses of "Don't Carry It All"-- a rumbling acoustic guitar outtake from Things We Lost in the Fire-- and a breathtaking penultimate cover of Pink Floyd's "Fearless" by way of The Byrds, the weakest disc of Temporary Relief hides the most sought-after treasures for fans, and a number of surprises for anyone who's grown tired of Low's too-consistent approach in recent years.

[I'm hard-pressed to think of anyone who'd get much out of the DVD included with this set, but Low's most rabid fans will certainly enjoy fly-on-the-wall glimpses of life on the road with indie rock's most revered Mormons. The band's videos are a study in stasis.]