Low memoir by Mark Kozelek - November 29, 2022
I first saw Low in 1994, opening for Soul Coughing at Great American Music Hall in San Francisco. The audience chatter was drowning Low out. Their male singer, a young Alan Sparhawk, was telling the audience, "If you don't want to listen to the music, then go outside." He was visibly frustrated with the crowd, who were anxious to see the headliner. I immediately connected with Alan. I was very familiar with audience chatter at that stage of my career. The bass player at that time, Zak, had this brooding, intense, beatnik vibe. The woman behind the drums, with the gorgeous vibrato, looked like someone who you'd just as easily see working behind the cash register at Michael's. Over the years, I'd see Low mesmerize audiences many times. Mimi would often walk offstage after the show, open a bottle of water, completely unphased by the spell they'd put on the crowd.
Like Red House Painters, Low was doing 'slow' at a time when slow wasn't popular. At that time bands like The Spin Doctors and Rage Against the Machine were huge. Not long after that 1994 show, Low played The Bottom of The Hill. I stood watching them from the side of the stage, slightly annoyed by the sound of people playing pool in the room nearby. After the show I talked to Alan. "You look familiar," he said to me. From that point on, Alan has been a brother in music.
The day after that show, I met both Alan and Mimi at Taqueria El Castillito at Mission and 16th. There was a very popular artist at the time, the kind of artist you had to like or you'd be cast out (like in the Rush song "Subdivisions"). The three of us agreed that we didn't care for the artist's music; with that I knew I had found some friends who could have real, non-guarded conversations. The couple who I sat down with were not sheep. They were unpretentious, independent thinkers, with minds of their own.
Sometimes a year or more would pass without me seeing Alan and Mimi. But like the doves that nest outside my window each spring, I always knew they'd be coming around. I'm happy that I got to join them onstage several times over the years when they played San Francisco.
Alan and I went on to play together in the band Retribution Gospel Choir, in 2005. We toured together when gas prices were out of control during Hurricane Katrina. While I was producing their debut album at San Francisco's Hyde Street Studios, Mimi flew out to visit and see how progress was going.
Of course, Mimi could have sung on that record, but Retribution Gospel Choir wasn't a good fit for her. Retribution sounded like Black Sabbath. Mimi's voice is meant to be sung with Alan's and with God's and with her sisters' and maybe a few others. But she wasn't right for Retribution Gospel Choir. Mimi was to female singers what Jimmy Swaggart is to male singers. Her vibrato is on the same wavelength as Jimmy's. Jimmy is as good as it gets, and to be compared to him is as high praise as I can give a singer.
Mimi was also great company. I remember how well she rolled with the Retribution guys. There we were in the middle of The Tenderloin, up in studio D where tons of legendary artists had recorded, and Mimi was completely at ease. I've never seen any situation that made her nervous. I'm not sure what Low was exactly to Mimi, but it seemed like her day job. She seemed to put the same amount of effort into singing and playing drums as a checker would at a Salvation Army, yet what she did was miraculous and stunning. The chemistry between Alan and Mimi - as singers and as people - could turn an agnostic into a believer. If there's anything that makes me believe that God may exist, it's their voices together. When Low builds up in dynamics, and holds long notes, you get chills. If you don't, you're probably one of those people who hates cats.
It wasn't uncommon for me to bump into Low at places around the world including London, Norway, New Orleans, San Francisco, and I even got to visit them twice in Duluth. Once in 2014, and again this past August. I kicked it with Mimi and her best friend Laurel on their wrap-around porch that looked over Lake Superior. Once in a while they laughed at my jokes. I couldn't help them do a NYTimes crossword puzzle to save my life, but I had fun listening to them tell stories of traveling together to Toronto and New York, where Mimi had done some recording in the past.
One night while eating prime rib, discussing one thing or another, Mimi said, "I'm not a public figure." I disagreed, but I didn't tell her that. This world-traveled person, who has been covered by Robert Plant, truly didn't believe that she was a public figure. And that's one of the many things that made her the approachable, extraordinary person that she was. With that kind of talent you usually see at least a little bit of ego, but not with Mimi.
Mimi was sharp and she had a quick, dry sense of humor. When I put two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle together, in my very first stab at a puzzle that she and her friend were working on, Mimi said, "Well, look at that! He's a natural!" I loved her speaking voice. I met Francis McDormand on the Almost Famous set; she and Mimi had the same inflections in their voices. A Minnesota accent isn't that far off from an Ohio or Illinois accent. Mimi was familiar to me, like someone I grew up around.
The most profound thing Mimi said to me during that trip (and perhaps one of the most profound things I ever heard a person say to me) was, "Mark, when I first got diagnosed, all I could think of was, why me? Then after a while, I thought, why not me?" That was a selfless, big thing to say, considering her situation. There she was, plowing through it, with humor and her good-natured spirit. I know that she had difficult times while battling cancer. Who wouldn't. But that week in August was the most relaxed and vibrant I'd ever seen Mimi.
I'm so happy to know that Mimi passed in the comfort of her home, with her husband Alan and their two children. As I've explained to a few people: "Mimi lived many lives inside of her fifty-five years. She met Alan, she raised two kids, she traveled the world, and she healed millions of people with her music."
Alan Sparhawk lost his wife and the mother of his children on November 5th. Mimi's passing was also the end of Low as we've known them. Alan plays in other bands. He loves to make music. He's great at it. But I never saw him stand as tall with any other artist as he did with Mimi. She brought the best out of Alan. Now and then an artist is irreplaceable, and Mimi is one of them. Alan's going to keep standing tall and making great music. Mimi's spirit will see to it. They are the very definition of what it means to have each other's back, and I know that they will, for eternity.
The world lost more than just a great singer in Mimi. They lost a great person. She was exactly the person who was standing right there in front of you — no gimmicks, no bullshit, no pretentiousness.
I'm so happy that I got to pass through this life knowing Mimi Parker.
Rest in peace, Mimi. And lots of love to Alan, their family, friends, bandmates, crew, and fans.
