To enjoy Sigur Rós one must put aside many of the expectations commonly held of and for “pop” music, at least when defining “pop” as being popular. Indeed, Sigur Rós defy nearly all the conventions of pop music while creating something ethereal, fuller, and somehow more enduring-seeming than much other so-called pop. Nowhere, though, is the fact that Sigur Rós are indeed popular more evident than when standing among thousands of enthralled fans during a live show, as this reviewer recently discovered at Seattle’s Paramount Theatre on September 20th.
The music of Sigur Rós has long been captivating to this reviewer for its ability to seem to capture all the feelings, package them up, and release them in incredibly layered, textured, emotive music. Indeed, their sound could in some ways be described as feelings in aural form, the three musicians creating sound waves that build, float, and crash around the listener, taking his or her mood and imagination with them.
Live, Sigur Ros adds intense, but largely simple visual elements to round out the sound. Those familiar with Sigur Rós videos might be familiar with some of the aesthetics – shots of the heavens, of rugged, desolate landscapes, and of pulsing, living color. The music and visuals combine to carry the listener away into a different world, the music generally comforting and emotionally invigorating but broken up with enough cymbal- and bass-heavy, turgid, aggressive music to release any remaining angst. This tour includes numerous old works, ranging back to 1999’s Ágætis Byrjun, through new work, and the audience appeared to have come from all the years of that ride (indeed, this reviewer spotted a child in the audience, and was conversely surrounded by many people who likely remember the release of Ágætis Byrjun). It is unsurprising that Sigur Rós would have such a following, particularly after witnessing the intensity and near transcendent nature of their live show.
The Paramount show started with “Á,” Orri Páll Dýrason’s drums announcing the band’s arrival to an eager audience. “Á” bled beautifully into “Ekki Múkk,” in which Jónsi’s voice carried this reviewer to the edge of an Icelandic cliff at sunrise, the world full of possibility, beauty, and not a little mystery. Other standouts from the show included “Sæglópur” (which always worms its way into this author’s subconscious to reemerge days later) and the darker, more aggressive “Kveikur.” Finally, the show concluded with “Fljótavík” merging gorgeously into “Popplagið,” leaving the audience on a metaphorical high that seemed to carry them as they streamed out of the building.
