On paper, slowcore giants Low don’t seem like the most obvious candidates for an Americana album. This is especially true for those of us who came to the band through the glitchy, atmospheric noise project Double Negative and worked their way backwards through their sparse soundscapes.

And while this album and Double Negative are as dissimilar to one another as anything else in the Low catalog, C’Mon delivers the same sort of minimalist compositions, just augmented by lap steels, fiddles, banjos instead of effects pedals and synthesizers.

Admittedly, C’Mon was not the first Low album on my purchase list. But it was the only Low album that was featured in a Buy Two, Get One sale that I found months ago (I know I’m behind, I know). And while I might have preferred Ones and Sixes or Long Division, I’m not going to be picky with a free Low album. Especially not one that features the great Nels Cline throughout it.

This is the group’s ninth studio album, and it absolutely plays like a band who knows their voice well enough to play with different sounds without disguising themselves. Opener “Try to Sleep” twinkles with glockenspiel and an almost cheery melody. “Witches” is dark and bluesy, a ragged electric guitar driving a band of strings and banjo. Songs like “Done” and “$20” have a gospel tinge to them as the rich harmonies echo against the walls of the old church they recorded in. The closer “Something’s Turning Over” is a twangy, acoustic-guitar-led folk ballad.

And of course, there are plenty of tracks that showcase classic Low. The dreamy “You See Everything” and mournful “Especially Me,” both sung by drummer Mimi Parker in lilting, multitracked harmonies, could easily fit on just about any of their albums. “Majesty/Magic” is as dark and broody as Low gets, Alan Sparhawk singing minimalistic lyrics against swelling guitars that tease a catharsis that never comes.

The standout track here is “Nothing But Heart,” an eight-minute meditative track that repeats a single line as it swells with fuzz guitar, an immovably solid rhythm section, and a ripping slide guitar solo from Nels Cline. Its trancelike simplicity totally obscures the runtime, ending as if waking from a drum.

C’Mon doesn’t seem to be anyone’s choice for best Low album—Pitchfork calls it a “tour of the various twists and turns in direction [the band] has taken over the years.” They may mean that dismissively, but it’s not a bad thing to have an album that combines all the best parts of what a band does. And for any band with the longevity and variety of Low, a single, multifaceted album is an enjoyable ride.