Review: Spirit still moves in Low's set at Johnny Brenda's

Fans of the Duluth, Minn., trio Low squeezed in Monday night for a sold-out show at Johnny Brenda's, a date rescheduled due to Pope Francis' Philadelphia visit in September.

It was a rare treat for those fortunate enough to secure tickets, perhaps the band's most intimate local show since they played at Silk City two decades ago.

The band's music would have been an apt sound track for the throngs of faithful who flooded our town to see the pope. Guitarist Alan Sparhawk and drummer Mimi Parker, the married couple at Low's core, are Mormon, not Catholic, and their songs aren't conventional anthems of praise. But it's not hard to find evidence of spiritual yearning, especially if you know where to look.

As befits a band known for their measured tempos and hushed dynamics, Low's evolution has been gradual (one could even say glacial). The half-dozen songs in Monday's set from their most recent album, 2015's Ones and Sixes, sat comfortably alongside "Words" from their 1994 debut, I Could Live in Hope, although the use of programed beats, inspired by Kendrick Lamar, is new, and their lyrics have grown more personal as well as more elliptical.

Sparhawk and Parker harmonize with ethereal grace, but more recent duets have taken on a contrapuntal quality, like marital quarrels set to music. (Bassist Steve Garrington has filled out the lineup since 2008.) Parker's haunting cover of Al Green's "Let's Stay Together," set to a dry iPhone beat, was like breakfast in bed after an all-night spat, a reminder that bad times bind us together as much as good ones do.

Over the years, Low have perfected the trick of embracing extremes at the same time: Their early songs went from quiet to loud, slow to slightly less slow. Now, they seem to do both at once. In "No Comprende," Parker seemed to be simultaneously playing behind the beat and also gathering speed, lending a subtle rhythmic instability.

"Landslide" stretched into a pounding waltz while holding on to the hushed intensity of a closely guarded secret. It was a fitting climax for a show that felt like a little bit of a secret itself.