Mount Eerie & Alan Sparhawk

General Admission Standing

I grew up five miles into the woods outside the island town of Anacortes, Washington during the 80’s and 90’s in a post-hippie echo that normalized saying “hello” out loud to the nearby mountains, waters and animals. As a teenager, entering the world of music and creation through the door that punk tore open, I finally found my people in Olympia. I lived there for 5 years and released records as the Microphones with the K label. Now I make Mount Eerie records, since 2003, and release them myself on a fake record label, stubbornly still DIY to the bone. I have a devotion to this life of creativity and subversion that has never wavered. These songs and works dig down into the bedrock of this place and try to bring forth a fresh exhale, a big picture glimpse, small beneath the sky, clear water trickling. 

Alan Sparhawk has always been a prolific, protean musician. A restless soul eager to explore unfamiliar sonic and psychic terrain. Though he’s obviously (and justifiably) best-known for his thirty years as frontman of the legendary band Low, a look at Sparhawk’s many side projects across that same span of time shows him experimenting with everything from punk and funk to production work and improvisation. Low itself never settled for a set sound or approach. The band was always a collaboration—a conversation, a romance—between Sparhawk and his wife, Mimi Parker, who was the band’s co-founder, drummer, co-lead vocalist, and its blazing irreplaceable heart. To take the journey from Low’s hushed early work, through the tremendous melodies of their middle period, all the way to the late lush chaos of their final albums, is to witness heads, hearts, and spirits in an act of perpetual becoming.