No messing around: Just a drummer, a couple of violinists, a bass played with a stick, a cello bow and a mountain of electronics. Singer Jon Por Birgisson is an artic wisp of a man, tall and thin in the extreme, but his voice is incredible. A helium filled Matt Belamy. None of it can be made out, he sounds like a whale, it’s another instrument, wailing and soaring and then he puts his bow to his guitar and waves of howling noise crashes out. There’s no other sound like it...as near as I can place it is the groaning sound ships make when they capsize.
Sigur ros are something of a crossover. They take classic foundations and melt in the contemporary. Their sound is one of mourning pianos and vast, cosmic swirls of sound – violins, electronics and howling guitars. They play a selection of songs from ‘Agaetis Byrjun’ and the recent ‘()’, but its hard to really follow closely, the songs are just too immense. More concertos than pop songs. I’ve been a fan for quite a while, and I was hard pressed to identify individual tunes. The gig swelled into one long resonating wall of sound and as I watched Birgisson playing and singing I found it hard to understand how one man can make so much blistering noise. Its ghostly and ethereal but in a Soundtrack To A Super Nova sort of way.
Sigur Ros played at the perfect time of day: after dark as the drizzle started to fall. Onstage, there was minimal movement: all the musicians remained still, channelling monolithic sounds. The light show was something else. The audience was bathed in icy white and purple light that turned and moved, dreamlike. Birgisson strokes his guitar with his bow and a sunrise of gold grows behind him and fills the stage. Out of all the bands I had seen, Sigur Ros was the most beautiful.
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According to some, we’re in the midst of ‘The New Rock Revolution’ or whatever. Glastonbury was oozing with angry, guitar wielding young men. Open a portaloo at random and you’ll find a lead singer or bassist inside, biting and snarling. Maybe so, but Sigur Ros were the only guys I saw that indulged in a bit of stage trashing. Maybe the permanent daylight had caused them to go a little insane in the old membrane but the drum kit was toppled with a few swift toe-ends to the kick drum, followed by two rounds of theatrical bowing. Rock and (artic) roll, man. Ugh. That was ugly. I’m sorry you had to hear that.
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