God created Jonsi Birgisson to sing. Placed on a volcanic island in the north Atlantic, one of this century's most original voices, thankfully, found a way to reach across the globe with his aesthetic wonderment. Jonsi's ethereal voice is both beautiful and forlorn, conjuring up untold ages of men, ghosts, summers, winters, suns. To hear him live is to defy the normal physics binding us together.
Iceland's Sigur Ros established their near-mythic status with their second album, Agaetis Byrjun. Released in the United States in 2001, the album introduced listeners to sounds they could not have imagined: lush, ambient post-rock orchestration helmed by Jonsi''s otherworldly vocals and cello-bowed guitarwork. The band further moved listeners' conception of music and language on third album ( ) when every song was recorded in Vonlenska or "Hopelandic," a form of gibberish focusing on the melodic and rhythmic elements of music without the content of understandable language. Since then, the band has shifted shape with each album, moving among epic symphonies (Takk), verdant pop celebrations (Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust), ambient sprawls (Valtari), and glassy, metal riffs (Kveikur).
With songs that seem to reinvent the natural world, how does one distinguish between Sigur Ros' best musical moments? The task is nearly impossible. It's like asking someone if he likes dawn better than twilight, trees better than flowers, air better than water. The band taps into the elemental, sounding like a dialogue with Mother Nature at the intersection of Heaven and Earth.
At Kingsbury Hall, Sigur Ros displayed everything that makes the band singular. Touring as a trio, the stage morphed around them, with drums, guitars, keyboards, and synthesizers placed among the impressive lighting and production. Without the assistance of strings or horns, the band nevertheless sounded urgent and massive. Having played the Hollywood Bowl only the day before, it was a special dispensation to see them in such an intimate setting that could scarcely contain the majesty.
Set One:
- Á
- Ekki Múkk. Small golden orbs slowly moved across the stage, in the air, appearing like fireflies among the swelling ambience of this gorgeous Valtari track.
- Samskeyti. Called "Untitled 3" on ( ), this lilting piano line compels quiet contemplation, and is one of the band's enduring melodies.
- E-Bow.
- Dauðalagið.
- Glósóli.
- Smáskifa.
Set Two:
- Óveður. The second set was a force of nature, beginning with the glitchy synths of this excellent new song, the band's first release since 2013's Kveikur.
- Starálfur. A listener might rightfully consider "Staralfur" as the band's finest song, or at least the song that captures its essence best. From Agaetis Byrjun, it was unlike anything we've heard before, and it has been used to great affect in movies and videos. Stunning to hear live as the band was shrouded in a green haze of dangling ornamentation.
- Sæglópur. Honestly, this was one of the ten best songs I have ever heard live. Thrilling, epic, and pounding, Sæglópur rang from the skies as a mass of energy and light gathered and pulsated in the middle of the stage. From the band's underrated album Takk, this song simply lifted me to someplace higher and better.
- Ný Batterí.
- Vaka.
- Festival. The centerpiece of the album where naked people run across the rural highway, "Festival" begins with Jonsi's quiet voice unfurling over thin strands of sound. At the transition between quiet and loud, he held a note longer than humanly possible, and when he finally gave out, the audience went wild. From there, the song started to spin into a glorious celebration.
- Kveikur. Means "candle" in Icelandic. And it flickered with a sense of fury.
- Fljótavík. Awash in red, this lovely song splayed out in colorful emotion.
- Popplagið. The finale burst into technicolor flurry. The stage opened up to reveal our three heroes in full light, rocking harder than any Scandinavian metal band and sounding more cohesive than musicians have a right to be in the midst of such abandon.
