I got my downloaded copy of Sigur Rós’s new work on Monday when I was in Florida on a family trip. I got it a week before the official release date because I pre-ordered at Sigurros.com (got the deluxe edition, which includes the download, a CD copy, and a deluxe copy of the album to be released in September and which will include a bunch of extras, including a DVD). I’ve been listening to it off and on these past few days (I was traveling, so my active listening has been sporadic). But I absolutely love it. It’s brighter, cheerier, and more vibrant than their earlier works, and but it’s still Sigur Rós–operatic, emphasizing mood and tone over everything else.
On Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust, the focus is less on the drone (as in earlier works) and more on the beat. It’s not commercial, but it’s definitely more accessible to those who are turned off by the singer’s voice or the length of some of their tracks (there are two long tracks, but the rest are short) or by the rather melancholy nature of their earlier music.
For an example, check out the first two tracks. “Gobbledigook” is a wonderful pagan song with lumpy beats, wails and cries, and a rush of energy and celebratory noise that was such a shock when I first heard it on BBC’s Radio 1 that I wasn’t even sure it was Sigur Rós until I downloaded it and listened again and again. But it’s definitely SR, only with a very different focus: celebration, not contemplation. I said it was a pagan song because that’s what it feels like to me–the rush of rhythms and emotions building across the song until it’s abrupt three minute end, like a mini pagan ceremony on the summer solstice. It also doesn’t seem to follow traditional rock song formats–it seems to possess a form all its own, conducive to the odd rhythm (drums hit by sledgehammers) and the “lalalalalas” that flit like birds around the Jonsi’s vocals and the dueling acoustic guitar interplay. There’s something very elemental about the song, that’s for sure–like it floated into our world from a very distant time. The video–with its naked people running in the woods, reminiscent of the pagan scene in Andrei Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev–is also a giveaway for the pagan focus.
The second track, “inní mér syngur vitleysingur,” is perhaps the best song (emphasis on that last word) Sigur Ros has ever recorded. At the very least, it possess the catchiest melody, with (again) a thumping beat playing with a keyboard-lite ditty that mixes with vocals and choirs and strings and a whole mess of other stuff that all builds into a crashing burst of joy at the end (like all good Sigur Ros songs are supposed to end). This one’s four minutes long–so taken together, the first two tracks on this album are about the same length as most of the songs on ( ) and Takk…
What this album tells me, more than anything else, is that Heima changed the band for the better. The free concerts they did in Iceland brought a ton of positive vibes to the band in their native country. The film also forced this naturally shy band to open up and discuss themselves, their music, and their ideas. Finally (and most importantly), the acoustic performances at some of those concerts (along with other acoustic performances which were the featured in the film) allowed the members of the band to look at their own music in a new light. Their music has always been beautiful and haunting, but I think playing songs like “Voka” in an acoustic setting revealed a lot of the joy that is at the heart of their music. I’m not saying the band didn’t know their music was joyful–I’m sure they did. But it’s easy to get lost in the passion and the power of this music when there is an emphasis placed on feedback and amplifiers. Slowing down, quieting down the songs allowed them to breathe and be reborn in a way on Hvarf — Heim, and it’s this breath that I sense in Með suð. The acoustic renditions must have inspired the band in an immense way–particularly considering that this whole album was conceived, recorded, mastered, and released in the first six months of 2008 (and just after Heima was released).
And now I hear they’re coming to my neck of the woods in San Diego. I can’t wait to hear the band live and experience all facets of their music, from the blistering noise to the quietest whispers of Jonsi’s wonderful voice. They are one of the great bands of our time; this is one of the great albums of the year; and their live sets are truly events (as anyone who has seen Heima can attest).
Bonus: for those of you who are having trouble pronouncing the title of the album, here you go: the “ð” letter is pronounced “eth,” so “Með suð” is pronounced “Meth sueth” (and not the “Med sud” spelling I’m seeing on a lot of web sites). “í” (with the accent) is pronounced like “ee” (as in peel). “Eyrum” is pronounced “a-rum” (the “ey” is pronounced like the “a” in “pale”). “við” is “vith” and the rest is pretty much just “spilum endalaust” (except the “au” is pronounced like the “o” in “pole”). All together: “Meth sueth ee a-rum vith spilum endalost.” At least, I think that’s it. It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken Icelandic to anyone, so I’m probably screwing something up here.
[Thanks, BBC.]
Originally published 6/19/08
