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.
1. Untitled
2. Untitled
3. Untitled
4. Untitled
5. Untitled
6. Untitled
7. Untitled
8. Untitled
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

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