BIO

ACT ONE: I GESTATE

Lowcraft was formed in the late nineties in Portland, Oregon, amidst, and to some degree as a

reaction to, the grunge era of the Pacific Northwest. A strongly melodic love letter to the mostly

English artists (Bowie, Japan, Roxy Music, and Blur) whom Nathan Khyber, Keith Sommers,

and Brady Woodcock held dear.

The original name at that stage was Absinthe, recalling the drink which alternately propelled or

ruined many a surrealist and appealed to the group’s morbid sensibilities.

Absinthe got its first bit of traction when they were simultaneously playlisted on Portland’s

KNRK and Seattle’s ‘The End’ radio stations and began commuting to Washington state to

sharpen the spears and promote their EP, ‘Spoons,’ which had conjured a buzz felt all the way to

Austin’s SWSW.

Nathan Khyber’s sinuous vocals and evocative lyrical escapades are held in orbit by a rich

tapestry of effected, shimmering guitars brought by Keith Sommers and Brady Woodcock.

Bassist/Producer Clark Stiles and the incomparable drummer William La Grand help flesh out

a sound that is as ferocious as it is fragile, replete with morphing vignettes and heavy synth

drones. Much of what you hear on this recording are live rhythm tracks prior to any multi

tracking, which creates a vibe that breathes and undulates like the tide. The influences ooze out

in an unstudied, natural way. Brooding at times, laughable at others, but always prodding the

listener onward.

ACT TWO: CALL TO ARMS

By the time the boys were on stage at SXSW in Texas, a bidding war had developed. In order to

go where they thought they’d be best understood and distanced from the grunge drenched

Pacific Northwest, a tough decision was made to sign with a small UK based satellite label of

Sony, and relocate to London.

But there was still work to do in Portland. The band locked themselves in the studio and

finished their brilliant debut LP, ‘Manticore,’ exciting Sony and mounting further pressure to get

to Blighty and mix. With great fortune, they were able to secure Mark ‘Spike’ Stent at Olympic

Studios to put the final sheen on the project.

The band’s name was changed to Lowcraft during the mixing session as Absinthe was already

in use. The idea came out of mishearing the name ‘Lovecraft’ in a noisy curry joint near the studio

in Barnes. Gigs around Londontown followed, notably at the Borderline and Shepherds Bush Empire.

It seemed to be going somewhere and there was palpable electricity in the air and talk of opening tour

slots with artists like Travis.

No record deal is without its share of fraught. When a new General Manger was brought into

the indie label, he began to clean house and immediately took aim at Lowcraft, unimaginably

wanting them to dress and appear ‘grunge.’

Additionally, their chosen art director, Dave McKean, who had masterfully directed their first

music video, ‘One of Us,’ was brought into the office and fired in front of the band while they

waited outside like spurned school children.

Using the release of the album as leverage, this new GM silenced the group’s outrage - who had

believed they had contractual artistic license - brazenly stating to management, “You gotta

understand this: I hate Yanks.”

So for the second video, ‘Transcendental Meltdown,’ a GM-appointed chaperone was brought in

to ensure that the entire band was clearly visible in every shot, running bafflingly counter to

director Adam Berg’s simple treatment of the band going from obscure darkness to blinding

white light.

In order to remain in the country, and hopefully generate a following with no ad person or

marketing strategy, Lowcraft agreed to go on a prolonged pub tour of Great Britain, culminating

in Ullapool, Scotland. Joining the tour would be bassist Peter Noone, who would also go on to

play in some of their follow-up material. The tour was somehow both exhausting and

exhilarating at once, often to the lonely sound of one inebriated guy at the bar clapping.

Although the resulting record was beautiful, lush, and hard hitting, only five hundred copies

were ever printed, leaving everyone stunned and bewildered. The desire to resurrect this gem

drifted in and out of conversations over the subsequent decades, nagging each member until

very recent events suddenly revealed a break in the clouds.

ACT THREE: REDEMPTION SONGS

After twenty-five years in the vault, Sony has realized its potential and has kindly agreed to

dust ‘Manticore’ off and allow Palawan Records, led by former manager John Campbell, the

chance to let it resurface and finally get its chance to be heard.