There's not much to say about Low's new album The Great Destroyer. It's not quite memorable, but not quite forgettable. It's pretty enough. It's ... nice, I guess. I like it. Yes, I quite like it.

The first time I listened to it, I was in a really pouty mood and drinking chai tea, so I liked it more then, but now I'm over that and the album's dwindled from totally rad to good enough to listen to on a gray, drizzly day -- but only if I can't find a Mazzy Star disc first.

For those of you not in the know, Low's what's called a slowcore band.

Or at least, they used to be slowcore, and were for 11 years.

You know, all sonic landscapes and mesmerizing whispers and sparse instrumentation and the stray snare drum. But things got all shook up for Low's first Sub Pop release. The Great Destroyer finds the trio rocking out. We're not talking Mötley Crüe here, but at least Radiohead on Hail to the Thief (but definitely not The Bends).

I haven't really listened to much Low before (I admit, I was drawn to this album because I was looking for a new Sub Pop CD to tide me over until the next Sleater-Kinney), but from what I've gathered, this rocking-out-ness is pretty different from the delicate, glacial lethargy of earlier efforts.

But I don't really know, and my SoulSeek hasn't been working so well, so you'll have to take other folks' word on that.

What I can verify is that The Great Destroyer does offer a welcome concoction of swirling electric guitars, lots of fuzzy feedback, the occasional build-up and pulsating boom of a release, graceful broodiness galore and harmonies that are pure Simon & Garfunkel (Alan Sparhawk plays Paul to his wife Mimi Parker's Art). These masterful harmonies take center stage on almost every track, especially the ominously stellar "Pissing," which smashingly mixes a Velvet Underground-esque aural cacophony with a subdued "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme" folkiness. It's lovely, really.

Other tracks are nice, too. "California" is upbeat and poppy in that way that "vaguely hooky," rather than "sugary and midriff-revealing" way. "When I Go Deaf" offers a dreamy, reserved rhythm that erupts into a fiery guitar solo at least on par with Yo La Tengo (and I love me some Yo La Tengo). Then there's "Cue the Strings," which is the kind of lustrous, hypnotic, ethereal track that's all tension and no resolution, that makes me forget to breathe and drives me to lift my chin to the sky and follow the clouds with my half-shut eyes until the song ends and I loop it yet again.

See, the more I write about this album, the more I remember why I like it. It's pretty stuff. It's totally inoffensive, and I can't imagine a single person who wouldn't enjoy feasting their ears on this -- and that includes my roommate, the Reel Big Fish fan.

But for all the album's splendor, there's something about The Great Destroyer that lingers for only a few minutes before darting from your consciousness.

It's not like there's any track that's completely rotten (though "Just Stand Back" is pretty contrived); it's just that I've heard somber, tension-teaming indie pop elsewhere -- and better, and more beautiful.

Still, I like it. It's nice. Save it for a rainy day. Or not.

-- Reviewed by Caralyn Green