The Icelandic post-rock band from Reykjavík return to the UK with their first new studio album since 2013’s Kveikur...
Okay, I need you to humour me for a sec and think of a mountain or a forest for me. Think of how trees and rocks stand tall and ancient above you and how you can’t help but feel small next to such a monumental statement of nature’s power.
And how, at the same time, the stillness of that quiet world carries with it a sense of comfort and calm. It feels like you belong amongst the wind and the tall grass. You belong and you can peacefully settle in, you don’t need anything else - that feeling is Sigur Ros.
When the show ended, I was sitting in my seat for a long time, refusing to get up. I had witnessed pure magic and I wanted to live in it forever.
There is not a band out there quite like Sigur Ros. Their music is intimate, meditative, and so very powerful, delivered in a mix of Icelandic and their own made-up Hopelandic language.
The combination should sound very foreign, yet somehow it ends up feeling exactly the opposite. It opens you up to surrender to the music, making it universal. It belongs to all of us. And the beauty of it is, it doesn’t tell you what to feel - it lets you feel.
The first act started out with a delicate trio from the ( ) album: Vaka, Frysta and Samskeyti. At times, the music was so brittle that it felt like you needed to hold your breath to not shatter the magic. The mesmerising quiet was then fractured by the powerful Dauðalagið, with its crashing waves of distorted sound and its drenching lights of flashing white.
It felt like in the moment, that was all that existed. The sound and light lining every corner of the concert hall and every thought and nerve in your body. Overwhelmingly powerful and beautiful, I never felt anything like it before.
The second set was equally compelling, with Jonsi spending most of the night sawing at his guitar with a bow, creating mind-blowing noises that felt almost elemental at times. E-Bow and its mix between the slow drums, fracturing guitars and the visuals of rocks in the back felt like witnessing mountains speaking.
I never knew I could feel this level of intense emotion and complete awe, trust Sigur Ros to do that to you! The band closed their show with the feedback-drenched masterpiece that is Popplagið - Sigur Ros’ usual closer, which was the perfect monumental climax to end the night with.
What makes Sigur Ros so captivating is their ability to place beauty next to destruction. Quiet next to power. Kindness next to wrath. They have a way of destroying you and rebuilding you all over again.
As I looked around, people were hugging, holding hands tightly, staring baffled into nothingness - a reminder of how powerful music can be. And also a reminder of how much beauty we, as humans, are capable of putting out into the world.
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