Sigur Ros

Imagine another time, another place. Not a Milan gripped by summer heat. Iceland, perhaps. Or rather the world an instant before the flood. That livid light filtering through the clouds massing overhead could only come from there. The rumble of distant thunder, the lightning that suddenly tears through the darkness: the storm-charged air makes you feel suspended on the edge of an abyss.

Rain filters down sparse, in cold thin needles, as Sigur Rós take the stage. Shadows of nocturnal creatures outlined against the glow of the stage's luminous globes. It takes just the pulse of a single sound, the echo of a whale's song: "Svefn-G-Englar" is a call that seems to arrive from beyond the dark horizon of clouds. Jónsi Birgisson caresses the guitar with his bow, wounds it, lets it bleed: then his voice spirals upward like a moth hypnotized by gathering electricity.

At a Sigur Rós concert you get pulled under: slowly, one step at a time, you find yourself elsewhere, in a place hidden somewhere in a corner of the soul. Marked by a plastic, deliberate stride, "Glósóli" rises in a guitar whirlwind, while gusts of wind blow the coloured vapours wreathing the band far away. Even Jónsi admits it: tonight it really does feel like being in Iceland.

Amiina make their entrance in tunics and hairstyles worthy of a thiasus of forest nymphs, accompanying the dewy tinkling of "Sé Lest" with the lyricism of strings. And suddenly, as if in a dream, a procession of musicians appears in white livery and bowler hats, illegitimate children of the droogs from "A Clockwork Orange", crossing the stage with a village-band march and lighting up the song's coda with a shimmer of brass.

As expected, the evening centres on excerpts from "Takk…" and the latest "Með Suð Í Eyrum Við Spilum Endalaust": but the choice to favour the livelier episodes of the recent past over the less convincing acoustic detours of the band's current transitional phase manages to produce an engaging blend of rhythm and rarefaction, one that even makes you forget only a single track from the masterpiece "Ágætis Byrjun" is played.

"Við Spilum Endalaust" and "Hoppípolla" blossom in a triumph of strings and brass, with Orri Páll Dýrason on drums keeping time, shown in profile to the audience and decked out in a wild jester-prince headdress. Between the classic crescendos of "Festival" and "Saeglópur", Jónsi picks up the acoustic guitar to sketch the delicate melody of "Góðan Daginn", his face framed by the collar of a jacket that looks stolen from the heroes of some Nordic saga.

Like floating moons, the stage set's spheres shift colour in step with the unfolding music. The close-up stage and the intimate crowd make the Arena's atmosphere feel even more personal. The fanfare and piano of "Inní Mér Syngur Vitleysingur" introduce the evening's most overtly pop moment, while the bass vibrations - with Georg Hólm striking the strings with a drumstick - drive the build of "Hafsól", straight from the debut "Von", up to its frenzied final acceleration, with Jónsi surrendering to delirium as he lashes the guitar with his bow.

Then Sigur Rós invite everyone to stand up and join the frantic hand-clapping of "Gobbledigook", amid multicoloured lights, bass drums, drums and Animal Collective-style chants. A cascade of confetti falls over the crowd at the height of the celebration, like snowflakes dancing in the wind.

Everyone crowds around the stage as the Icelanders return for the essential farewell of "Popplagið", the untitled eighth track of ( ). The rain beats harder on the makeshift raincoats bought at the Arena's entrance, the bloody tints of the lights seem to mirror the apocalyptic scene of the reddish sky: amid Jónsi's ethereal vocalizing, the sound takes on the force of an advancing tide, like a wave crashing violently over rain-streaked faces, sweeping everything away in the shoegaze explosion of the finale, an extreme catharsis that leaves everyone standing still, turning around breathless. A bow, a smile. There is nothing left to add. The spell, by now, is kept safe in the secret silence of every gaze.

(25/07/2008)

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google