Mimi Parker was far from being a household name. The 55-year-old – who sang and played drums in the band Low from Duluth in Minnesota – was a low-key figure whose work rarely threatened to trouble the compilers of the weekly charts.
But to those in the know, she was a superstar, a uniquely talented musician with a voice that could shatter your heart into a billion tiny pieces and then put it back together again in the space of the same song.
When Parker’s husband and bandmate, Alan Sparhawk, announced last Sunday that she had passed away, two years after being diagnosed with ovarian cancer, we lost a great artist. Tributes quickly followed.
Former Led Zeppelin singer, Robert Plant, appearing at the Kings Theatre in Glasgow hours after news of Parker’s death broke, spoke of his love for Low then performed a brace of their songs, Pretenders front-woman Chrissie Hynde tweeted of her sadness at the passing of her favourite singer, and countless other artists and fans shared their own memories of a woman who, over almost 30 years, helped create a body of work that will – I have no doubt – be revered long after we’re all gone.
Mimi Parker made us believe every word
Authenticity is not a requirement for the creation of great popular music. The earnest search for truth can hinder the process. Sometimes, we need – and are moved by – something brash and dumb. Give me the sugar rush of “Gangnam Style” over the maudlin emptiness of any number of songs by sad-eyed boys with acoustic guitars any day of the week.
But sometimes an artist creates something so true and clear that it’s impossible not to be moved. This, I think, was Parker’s particular gift.
Low’s songs – soft and slow and concerned with love, loss and hope – were made great by her voice. Whether harmonising with her husband or taking the lead, Parker made us believe every word. This she did with humility and kindness.
Anyone who was lucky enough to see Low in concert will know that Sparhawk was the extrovert in their partnership. Sometimes, spiky, sometimes rambling, he can be an entertainingly unpredictable frontman. With a quietly drawled line, Parker would keep him in check. I hope he’s going to be okay.
Rarely a week goes by when I don’t listen to Low but since the shattering new of Parker’s death became public, I’ve listened only to their records. If you know and love their music, then I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you’ve done the same.
If you are yet to discover their work, start anywhere and let the voice of Mimi Parker enfold you. We are lucky to have had her.
Euan McColm is a regular columnist for various Scottish newspapers
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