This year has been pretty good for Icelandic acts, with
new albums from Múm
and Gus Gus, a compilation
and box set celebrating the career of pop pixie Björk
and the highly anticipated third album from Sigur Rós,
the second for Brighton-based Fat-Cat Records. With
its beautiful melodies, atmospheric vocals and sweeping
orchestrations, Ágætis
Byrjun, released over two years ago, showed
the then relatively unknown quartet effortlessly producing
the album Radiohead are still trying to record. Formed
in 1994 by singer and guitarist Jón Þór
Birgisson, bassist Georg Holm and drummer Ágúst,
who was later replaced by Orri Páll Dýrason
after the recording of Ágætis
Byrjun when he left to pursue a career as a
graphic designer. Keyboard player Kjartan Sveinsson
joined the band shortly before the band started working
on their first album, Von (Hope),
released on Reykjavik label Smekkleysa. The album was
consequently reworked by a string of artists including
Múm, Gus Gus
and Curver for the Von Brigði (Recycle
Bin) album. Both records are to this day only available
in Iceland.
If Ágætis
Byrjun Sigur Rós gracefully mixed string
work and guitars, ( ) presents a rawer sound,
almost entirely based on guitars/bass textures, supporting
Birgisson’s instantly recognisable voice, which
he uses more than ever as an additional instrument.
Voluntarily putting the evocative power of their music
to the test, the band chose not to name any of the tracks,
or indeed the album, inviting the listeners to post
their own interpretation of the songs on their web site.
First album recorded in the band’s new studio, situated
in a converted swimming pool on the outskirts of Reykjavik,
( ) appears denser than its predecessor. Poignant
melodies float over rich, yet delicate, layered sonic
constructions progressively developing from intimate settings
to incredibly complex and startlingly beautiful pieces.
The opening track is emblematic of the mood of this album.
Darker and more introverted, with a surprisingly earthier
feel served by fragile vocals and crystalline piano, Untitled
1 scarcely reveals its splendour before running back
to cover. The album follows a similar pattern, with more
elaborate tracks raising the stakes in the second half
of the record. The dramatic instrumental third track introduces
the first highly emotional moment of ( ). Let
by a melancholic piano line, the melody calls on imaginary
ethereal vocalises, progressively growing stronger and
more powerful before suddenly disappearing for good, leaving
the listener begging for more. Later, track six offers
a sharper and slightly moodier take on the band’s
music, eventually morphing into one of the most magnificent
moments Sigur Rós have recorded. The closing track,
with its narcoleptic deep repetitive bass line groove,
is perhaps the more surprising moment of this album as
the band seem to take their sound to a new, more accessible
level, leaving behind the experimental aspect of their
music for a moment. The second half of the track returns
to their familiar territories with the most aggressive
moment of this album. The silence that follows feels entirely
part of the song as Sigur Rós bring the curtain
down on an incredibly intense record.
If Sigur Rós had softened any corner on the predecessor
of this record, ( ) bares its scares and instincts
proudly, making it a more organic and sensual, if perhaps
slightly less immediate, record. Ultimately, ( )
shows the journey covered by the band since the release
of their previous album, and reveals more evidently the
endless talent of the band.
5/5 |
