Sigur Rós
http://www.sigur-ros.co.uk

styles:
experimental rock, post-rock, space rock, dream pop, space rock
others: Radiohead, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Mum


Saeglópur EP
Geffen, 2006
rating: 3/5
reviewer: olskooly

Despite any misgivings one may have about the voice of Sigur Rós lyricist Jon Thor Birgisson, there is no denying that his band crafts consistently strong, melodic tunes that resonate with unbridled energy. Birgisson's vocals frequently sound like the vocal stylings of Thom Yorke, Maximilian Hecker, and Coldplay's Chris Martin synthesized and reduced to their most cloying characteristics. To make things even more difficult, Birgisson has seemingly accepted the torch from Cocteau Twins' Elizabeth Fraser, singing many, if not most, of Sigur Rós' songs in a glossolaliac, nonsensical croon, improvising the vocals, perhaps, to complement the band's music. And like Cocteau Twins, Sigur Rós create the kind of records your pseudo-hip girlfriend will borrow immediately prior to breaking up with you. It's beautiful, inarguably listenable, and emotionally overwrought music that could easily serve as the soundtrack to any given day of your life.

The Saeglópur single, the first domestic EP released in conjunction with Sigur Rós' 2005 full-length, Takk..., contains three non-album tracks in addition to "Saeglópur" and is accompanied by a separate DVD containing three videos from that record as well. Omitting only the track "Hafol," and adding the video for "Saeglópur," this EP is nearly identical to the band's Japan-only tour EP released earlier this year and was presumably released to make these tracks more accessible to those too scrupulous to illegally download them. Like Radiohead, Sigur Rós demonstrate with this EP that their B-sides are frequently as strong, if not stronger, than their proper album cuts. Though perhaps not as fully realized as the bulk of Takk, the three included outtakes, "Refur," "Ó Fridur," and "Kafari," are each evocative and sumptuously produced in their own right.

Furthermore, these three outtakes add continuity to the mood established by "Saeglópur," the EP's lead-off track. Like many of the band's previous B-sides, two of these new pieces are instrumentals (only the gravely sentimental "Ó Fridur" contains vocals). "Refur" is a short and beautifully Chopin-esque piano sonata augmented by almost inaudibly subtle incidental noise relegated deep into the background of the track. "Ó Fridur" begins with dense, leaden string swells, which build in intensity before Birgisson's moody falsetto enters the mix. This piece, in particular, is an extraordinarily uplifting counterpart to the EP's title track. The final non-album cut, "Kafari," evokes the essence of childhood with its music box melody and lighthearted charm.

These outtakes do indeed sound like they were recorded concurrently with the tracks on Takk The production, overall mood, and atmospheric scraping effects prominent on these pieces are also redolent of the tracks from the recent LP. On the whole, this EP serves as a concise and somewhat enlightening appendix to Takk, although for the sake of the completists out there, it's baffling that the band included all of the tracks except one from the Japanese tour EP. In any case, these B-sides offer some welcome insight into Sigur Rós' Takk period.

The three videos compiled on the DVD portion of the EP are typically impressive Sigur Rós fare. As anyone familiar with the band's earlier videos can imagine, each involves the band's obsession with youth. "Saeglópur" approximates a child's nightmare rather frighteningly and not inaccurately. "Glósóli" and "Hoppípolla" are strangely beautiful and heartwarming videos that will bring a smile to your face in spite of yourself. Every time this band releases something new, they seem to go further toward transcending the indie hype that has plagued them since 1999's Ágćtis Byrjun.

1. Saeglópur
2. Refur
3. Ó Fridur
4. Kafari
5. Saeglópur (video)
6. Glósóli (video)
7. Hoppípolla (video)


Takk...
Geffen, 2005
rating: 4/5
reviewer: keith kawaii + mr p


Keith Kawaii: Takk probably won't ruin any fan's love for Sigur Rós. But I might as well play devil's advocate here. There's one thing about the band that I didn't really notice, or mind, much before this album, and that's the lack of harmonic variation. Takk is pretty, with an inevitable abundance of saccharine melodies soaked in color chords and cloudy ambience. Is it ok if I use the word 'glacial'? Well, I shouldn't have expected any different. It's Sigur Rós for the love of christ. The problem is, every time one of their life-affirming crescendos starts to kick in, I keep wishing for a crunchy patch of dissonance to save me from the repetition.

Mr P: I agree with you; someone needs to buy Sigur Rós a wrench. Although the songs on Takk can be quite 'moving,' it's getting harder to be convinced that these harmonic progressions are life-affirming at all. With such unrelenting emotional outpouring, I wonder how much is written through inspiration and how much is simply 'going through the motions.' Perhaps I'm a bit jaded on the Sigur Rós formula, but the limited harmonic variation also limits my reaction as a listener. It's hard to feel anything when you realize what you're 'supposed' to feel like. That said, it's not often a group can pull off this overwrought music without sounding completely derivative. Sigur Rós are still significant, but Takk sounds safe to me. I actually enjoyed their Ba Ba tangent.

Keith Kawaii: So we both agree, eh? You know, I would say the Rós are losing personal relevance to us, more than they are losing their musical edge. The point being that, aside from a few overtly 'poppy' moments on the new album, nothing much has changed in the harmonic territory. Maybe in 50 years we'll all look at this kind of impressionistic rock like we do 12 bar blues. It's the formula I've got beef with, so is superimposing that scruple onto a band's vision fair? All complaints considered, Takk is probably their most complete and well-produced album. When taking each song individually, well, some work better than expected and some just seem pointless. After a few listens, I've started mentally dividing the the tracks into 'necessary' and 'unnecessary' categories. Fun, right? For example, I find "Glósóli" and even the sugar coated "Hoppipolla" necessary steps in Sigur Rós' musical... um... journey. A song like "Saeglopur" just seems to go through the motions, like you mentioned.

Mr P: Yeah, I wouldn't necessarily say they've lost their musical edge ("Glósóli" serves as a nice testament), but its Takk's slight inhibition that keeps me in my seat. Of course, there's nothing wrong with Sigur Rós settling in to a sound they enjoy playing it's not our job to tell them how to write songs plus, they have definitely mastered the tonal world they've created. I can't help but listen in awe during the climactic moments on the album, no matter how predictable they may be. But I guess mastery and refinement aren't that interesting to me, personally. I do think, however, that Sigur Rós' sound after this album will start shifting toward a new direction, especially because the string quartet they play with, Anima, are heading off on their own musical career. Consequently, Sigur Rós will have the choice of trying to replace them or trying to work without them. In either case, despite our meticulous gripes, I think Takk makes for an ultimately satisfying end to their work with Anima (their importance is shown in "Andvari" and "Sé Lest"), and I can only imagine that these songs will sound much better in a live setting.

Keith Kawaii: Right on, brother.

1. Takk...
2. Glósóli
3. Hoppípolla
4. Meo Blódnasir
5. Sé Lest
6. Saeglopur
7. Milanó
8. Gong
9. Andvari
10. Svo Hljótt
11. Heysátan


Ba Ba Ti Ki Di Do EP
Geffen, 2004
rating: 4/5
reviewer: gretel


I almost wanted things to go sour this time. A total lack of innovation, an album too similar or too removed from Ágćtis Byrjun and (), maybe a bombastic album without any real depth. Better to fuck up now on an EP than on a full-length, right? Plus, the criticism might have done Sigur Rós some good: negating their sense of indestructibility, pushing forth another facet of the band, and forging a new path toward greatness. With the release of the Ba Ba Ti Ki Di Do EP (the music written for Merce Cunningham's split sides dance piece), I am left with no option but to be jarred by the idiocy and absurdity of such a thought.

While Radiohead, who also provided music for Cunningham, opted not to release what they played, Sigur Rós chose to capitalize on the moment. The three sections, "Ba Ba," "Ti Ki," and "Di Do," are, theoretically, constructed so that they may be played in any order, but the order the EP title suggests seems to work best. "Ba Ba" begins with a gentle glockenspiel and a "bummsett," which is a homemade percussive instrument made of eight ballet shoes. Sure, the idea may teeter on the pretentious side at first, but the overall effect really is impressive. Like many Sigur Rós songs, however, it drones on for quite a while before going anywhere. Luckily, when it does reach its climax, it does so in an effortlessly elegant crescendo that makes the droning parts more than worthwhile.

"Ti Ki," likewise, does this, only here the glockenspiel and bummsett duet lasts far longer. What sounds like a backing tape occasionally drops in a wrinkled sound, which, although very interesting, sounds a lot like what a microphone sounds like when dropped during recording. Here, too, the crescendo is very effective; at first rising only a trifle and soon after subduing again, so as to create a Wagner-like tension, only to be broken by the final, true crescendo.

It is the closer, however, "Di Do," which provides the most release and is also the most rewarding. Remnants from "Ti Ki" spill over for a short while, but then the song turns away from the direction of the previous two songs. A chanting voice oscillates from channel to channel, and, scattered, the words, "Ba Ba Ti Ki Di Do" are repeated. Suspense has always been an integral part of Sigur Rós music, but here it is at perhaps its most effective and inspiring. The glockenspiel and bummsett rise alongside the deranged chanting, and as if that weren't enough, deafening feedback is launched forth like a rock from a catapult, shattering the composure of the whole song and of the whole EP. For, although both "Ba Ba" and "Ti Ki" presented climaxes to bring the songs to life, "Di Do" makes it seem as though they were both holding back on us.

Although only an EP, Ba Ba Ti Ki Di Do proves once again that Sigur Rós is capable of amazing things, embodying all that was great about their past, all that is promising today, while hinting towards things to come in the dawn of a brighter morrow. And now that Radiohead has moved on from Kid A and Amnesiac, Sigur Rós may also be finally able to escape the tiring comparisons between them. Things are looking pretty sunny in Iceland.

1. Ba Ba
2. Ti Ki
3. Di Do


( )
MCA/Fat Cat, 2002
rating: 4.5/5
reviewer: xoiu
 

There are moments in life when you feel like you're trapped in the heart-wrenching scene of a Steven Spielberg film. Whether it's because you finally realize how much you love your significant other, or because you just realized how amazing the moon looks when it's full, these epiphany-filled moments provide a fuzzy feel-good feeling that makes you smile. That's when you understand why films like "You've Got Mail" are made or albums like 69 Love Songs are recorded; why the color of love is red, and why the twinkle of a star can produce tears. Fight as much as you'd like, these moments are imbedded in everyone's existence, no matter how cheesy or cliched. When listening to Sigur Rós, these mushy sentiments not only appear more frequently, but at ten times the prescribed strength.

Hey, hey, hey! Get back here, heavy metal rocker! These feelings are completely natural; besides, if you just take 71 minutes out of your life, you'll experience an album with more emotion than all Emo albums strung together. ( ), the band's third LP, is a climactic, tear-jerking diary; the music has the ability to dwarf just about any album played before or after. It's the kind of album that is so intangibly gigantic that you feel unworthy and uncomfortable in its presence, like trying to chat-it-up with Bill O'Reilly about current affairs, or trying to keep up with the elitist art gala frequenters in Manhattan.

Despite its epic scale, ( ) is  more reclusive than its over-the-top predecessor, Ágćtis Byrjun. The eight tracks are methodically divided into two parts: the first features light-hearted, almost spiritual tracks, while the last half consists of bombastic compositions, replete with crescendos, wailing guitars, and thick layers of noise. The two halves are divided by 30 seconds of silence. Each song retains a snail-paced tempo, opting for a consistently subdued style rather than the eclectic stew of Ágćtis Byrjun.

The elements that made Ágćtis so affective are hard-at-work again: the reverb-drenched instruments, the bowed guitars, the lush violins, the thick basslines, the falsetto-laden crooning. But these elements are shoved through a different filter, one that is almost monochromatic, as each track has similar emotional outputs. However, the filter did not weed out the consonance and heart of its predecessor; if anything, ( ) continues right where the emotions on Ágćtis left off, at least for the first half of the album. The second half, however, shows the darker side of Sigur Rós, a side that has been shown previously, but not in all its unabashed glory like on this album.

Track 7 is the definite standout track. In 13 minutes of intense, incredibly moody instrumentation, the song takes you to the depths of hell and back, or so the music could imply with its doom & gloom operation. The use of dynamics and the wavering tempo is like no other on the album, building an impenetrable wall of world-weary ache. It's like Radiohead's unreleased "Big Ideas" and "Svefn-G-Englar" combined-- on acid. Elsewhere, track 3 is a beautiful instrumental piece with a serious tone and light-hearted undercurrent, and it plays wonderfully. Through the warm chords and modest instrumentation lies the surreal pathos of Sigur Rós' world. 

What makes ( ) ultimately more successful than Ágćtis is its tasteful use of time. In retRóspect, Ágćtiswas a very busy album. Other than the arrhythmic interludes between the songs, each track overflowed with instruments and ideas, especially the overdose of strings. ( ), on the other hand, stretches the songs over longer periods, creating much desired breathing room. That's not to say that ( ) doesn't have its busy moments; there are times when the album is so thick that you are almost suffocating. But when things quiet down, the songs display Sigur Rós at their most intense, because any bad note or missed hit would disorient the listener and potentially ruin the song. Even with the more raw sound, Sigur Rós execute these silent moments flawlessly.

However, with all my praise, the album is not perfect. As great as the album is, there's one thing that I will never be able to get around: the singing. Jon Thor Birgisson plays the lead singer/guitarist. His voice seems foreign upon first listens but sounds incredibly natural within a couple repeats. It's one of the most unique and intense voices in modern music. However, my qualm with the singing has to do with the lyrics, or lack thereof.

The idea of this album is that Jonsi sings in Hopelandic (his own language), and you the listener are given the opportunity to derive your own interpretation and write them down in the blank booklet provided. Okay, sounds fair enough; besides, I never knew what they sang on Ágćtis, anyway. However, the pitfall comes when Jonsi (either intentionally or unintentionally) practically sings the same phrases on each track. Of the seven tracks that feature singing, only track 5 does not have a line similar to "yoo sigh-a-lo." But even still, track 5 has syllables that are ubiquitous over the course of the album. And it doesn't help that each song essentially repeats the same line, so what we are left with is a very limited vocabulary. This idea, coupled with its consistently dragging tempo, makes for a repetitive listen, no matter how different the instrumentation between each song is-- which is not a lot in itself. 

Despite this shortcoming, there are enough positives to overlook its uninventive vocals and to concentrate on the music. It's not often an album of this caliber is released; the fact that Sigur Rós would unveil such an album is very admirable. Without delving too far into experimentation, Sigur Rós create something fresh and new that still uses conventions like consonance and guitar. And the band's penchant for experimentation plays a significant role, despite the high potential for diatribe. With just those elements alone, Sigur Rós has earned my respect, but the fact that they can pull it off with sophistication and a sense of unfettered dedication is like apple pie. Oh, and for those of you blowing the pretentious whistle due to the album title and interlude of silence, I think the band has already earned their badge with Ágćtis. Though that does not automatically grant them free-access without criticism, it definitely establishes them as serious songwriters on the way to something seminal. So get out of the way. Sigur Rós' death and dismemberment rampage is in full gear.

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Ágćtis Byrjun
Fat Cat, 2001
rating: 5/5
reviewer: mr p


Okay, I admit it. I've jumped on the bandwagon. Chances are, by now you have heard at least something about the Icelandic band Sigur Rós ("Victory Róse"). Many proclaim Sigur Rós to be the first major threat of the 21st Century or hail them as the future of music. While these claims may seem a bit overdramatic to the Sigur Rós virgin, there is no doubt in my mind that they are the most capable of quartets in achieving this feat.

The great thing about Sigur Rós is that they make every note in every section count. The songs on Ágćtis Byrjun ("An Alright Start") do not rely on sudden tempo changes or dramatic shifts in chords to keep the listener's attention, but focuses on length and the monotonous chord progressions. At first it may seem that the songs lack any direction, but after repeated listens you will discover modest climaxes and subtle mood changes within the infrastructure of the drawn out music. Out of the 10 songs, 8 of them are over 6 minutes long, and most of them are even longer.

The album fades in with multiple harmonized voices, floating above reversed music. The short intro slowly morphs into a 10-minute masterpiece, "Svefn-G-Englar", which mainly coasts on the same chord progression, with the exception of a 15 second bridge. Elsewhere on the album, "Viđrar Vel Til Loftárása" fades in with its piano driven melody and overflowing string section, melting every ounce of evil in your body.

A vital element in Sigur Rós' arsenal derives from lead vocalist Jon Thor Birgisson. His voice proves to be one of the most incredibly sincere and honest voices in contemporary music, and propels the songs to an almost theatric level. Over his falsetto-laden voice and his delay-heavy guitar work, piles of instruments are precisely layered on one another, preparing a cake of epic proportions -- not to mention the outstanding production of the album that underscores the beauty of the album.

The album's lyrics end in the title track: viđ tölum saman á ný /en hljóđiđ var ekki gott / viđ vorum sammála um ţađ / sammála um flesta hluti / viđ munum gera betur nćst / ţetta er ágćtis byrjun." Which roughly translates to: "We sit down excited / listen to ourselves play in rhythm to the music / but the sound wasn't good / we were all in agreement / we will do better next time / this is a good beginning"; it's this humility that may be the scariest part, yet.

Ágćtis Byrjun
  is one of the most lush and beautiful records I have ever heard. The pure emotion and cinematic beauty of each reverb-drenched song is breathtaking, to say the least.  You've heard it once, you've heard it twice: the greatest of albums require time before they fully reveal themselves. But never has this adage seemed more true. It's not that the songs are "difficult" by any means; in fact, the songs at first seem rather easy listening and conventional, but the album flows so well that distinguishing between the songs proves to be the crux. And the fact that lead singer/guitarist Jon Thor Birgisson alternates his language between Icelandic and his own language, dubbed "Hopelandic", doesn't help matters much. But don't fret; if you take the time to acquaint yourself with the album -- I promise, the songs will eventually reveal their luminous core.

Ágćtis Byrjun
is an album for the heart and soul -- an album for your life. Now who's being overdramatic?

1. Intro
2. Svefn-G-Englar  (Sleepwalkers)
3. Staralfur (Staring Elf) 
4. Flugufrelsarinn  (Fly Freer)
5. Ny Batteri (New Batteries)
6. Hjartao Hamast (Bamm Bamm Bamm)   (The Heart Pounds (Boom Boom Boom)
7. Viđrar Vel Til Loftárása (Good Weather for Airstrikes)
8. Olsen Olsen (Hopelandic)
9. Agaetis Byrjun  (An Alright Start)
10. Avalon