armed with the recent european release ‘ágaetis byrjun’ I stood inside the temple bar music centre venue, content. the last live experience I shared with sigur ros’s music was my first time to hear it. now I had to see how the studio persona of this sound would translate through the raw energy of a live concert. could guitars support the sections that strings normally provided on tracks like ‘starálfur’ or ‘viðrar vel til loftárása’?
and so I entered the main area. the usually sparse stage was covered in short, brightly lit candles, instantly creating an intimate atmosphere, even amongst the packed crowd of this sell-out gig. before long sigur ros’s trademark deep blue provided the only light in the area, and the band modestly attended their positions. this time, unlike when they supported godspeed you black emperor!, there were no screens displaying aerial images of their native iceland. but it wasn’t necessary, as every single mind in the venue instinctively imagined those scenes anyway. the music was as mythical and fleeting as the snow that softly covers that island.
to my surprise, almost all of the set-list was completely new material. the band began with a song reminiscent of moments from previous songs, as sweet as ‘ágaetis byrjun’, as timid as von’s title track. the crowd reacted with ecstatic delight when the band followed with ‘Svefn-G-Englar’, a friendly familiar face in the sea of new, unknown experimental songs. and it was as desperately warm and soothing as the first time it penetrated into me. towards the conclusion of the song, the lead singer, jónsi, retreated from his exhausted mic, lifted his guitar to his face and proceeded to scream at the instrument in ‘hopelandish’. his soaring vocals ruptured the guitar’s strings, as if in some act of gratuitous oral pleasure. and this was the saddest sex you’ll ever hear.
another three anonymous tracks proceeded, all sprawling in time yet rewarding in intensity. one of them, delicate and yielding, concealed a similarity with the vocal tune of radiohead’s ‘the tourist’. throughout these songs, a group of perfectly sober ‘nuclear physicians’ behind me decided that this venue would be the apt place for a frank discussion, probably in order to impress any surrounding females. then the final song commenced, beginning like the previous ones, almost an act of oral brooding. about half way through, the music suddenly explodes, erupting into screeching distortions. the crowd, who for most of the gig were swaying gently in accordance to the swirling ambience, stood still, incapable of physically acknowledging its brilliance. the ‘nuclear physicians’ were speechless, perfectly demonstrating the audacious power that saturates the music of sigur ros.
after the gig I had the pleasure of meeting jónsi for a brief period. thwarting my expectations of a stereotypical pensive scandinavian, he appeared genuinely sweet. there was an obvious natural differentiation between the torn-open person onstage and the one I discussed the resentment of comparisons with the cocteau twins to. perhaps this proves that such immensely moving music is beyond the endeavours of any human consciousness.
esbs
says:armed with the recent european release ‘ágaetis byrjun’ I stood inside the temple bar music centre venue, content. the last live experience I shared with sigur ros’s music was my first time to hear it. now I had to see how the studio persona of this sound would translate through the raw energy of a live concert. could guitars support the sections that strings normally provided on tracks like ‘starálfur’ or ‘viðrar vel til loftárása’?
and so I entered the main area. the usually sparse stage was covered in short, brightly lit candles, instantly creating an intimate atmosphere, even amongst the packed crowd of this sell-out gig. before long sigur ros’s trademark deep blue provided the only light in the area, and the band modestly attended their positions. this time, unlike when they supported godspeed you black emperor!, there were no screens displaying aerial images of their native iceland. but it wasn’t necessary, as every single mind in the venue instinctively imagined those scenes anyway. the music was as mythical and fleeting as the snow that softly covers that island.
to my surprise, almost all of the set-list was completely new material. the band began with a song reminiscent of moments from previous songs, as sweet as ‘ágaetis byrjun’, as timid as von’s title track. the crowd reacted with ecstatic delight when the band followed with ‘Svefn-G-Englar’, a friendly familiar face in the sea of new, unknown experimental songs. and it was as desperately warm and soothing as the first time it penetrated into me. towards the conclusion of the song, the lead singer, jónsi, retreated from his exhausted mic, lifted his guitar to his face and proceeded to scream at the instrument in ‘hopelandish’. his soaring vocals ruptured the guitar’s strings, as if in some act of gratuitous oral pleasure. and this was the saddest sex you’ll ever hear.
another three anonymous tracks proceeded, all sprawling in time yet rewarding in intensity. one of them, delicate and yielding, concealed a similarity with the vocal tune of radiohead’s ‘the tourist’. throughout these songs, a group of perfectly sober ‘nuclear physicians’ behind me decided that this venue would be the apt place for a frank discussion, probably in order to impress any surrounding females. then the final song commenced, beginning like the previous ones, almost an act of oral brooding. about half way through, the music suddenly explodes, erupting into screeching distortions. the crowd, who for most of the gig were swaying gently in accordance to the swirling ambience, stood still, incapable of physically acknowledging its brilliance. the ‘nuclear physicians’ were speechless, perfectly demonstrating the audacious power that saturates the music of sigur ros.
after the gig I had the pleasure of meeting jónsi for a brief period. thwarting my expectations of a stereotypical pensive scandinavian, he appeared genuinely sweet. there was an obvious natural differentiation between the torn-open person onstage and the one I discussed the resentment of comparisons with the cocteau twins to. perhaps this proves that such immensely moving music is beyond the endeavours of any human consciousness.
(eoin o’faolain)