Sigur Ros
Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust
XL Recordings
By Mike Randall
Thanks to their lead single “Gobbledigook,” there’s somewhat of a misleading rumor on the street that Iceland’s Sigur Ros has put to bed their trademark winter-y symphonic sound in favor of a more pop-friendly approach. With its up-and-down cascade of acoustic guitar, train-track percussion and multi-harmony chorus of “oohs” and “lahs,” “Gobbledigook” is unquestionably among the most radio-ready songs Sigur Ros has ever recorded. As it kicks off their latest record, Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust (Icelandic for “With a buzz in our ear we play endlessly”) and is followed by a song that sounds like one Sufjan Stevens would have recorded if he were from Reykjavik (“Inni Mer Syngur Vitleysingur”), it’s understandable that such a rumor would persist. However, those fearful this isn’t your older brother’s Sigur Ros need not be overtly concerned.
Med Sud is certainly built to be more accessible, but not in the sense of “Gobbledigook” or “Inni Mer Syngur Vitleysingur,” which almost feel out of place on the album. There are gorgeous piano soundscapes and acoustic numbers that invite the listener more so with a sense of intimacy and an organic nature than simple straightforwardness. Tracks like the classical-tinged, finger-picked “Illgresi” or the waterfall of piano that is “Sud I Eyrum” add another dimension to their already impressive arsenal, and they come off more as a complement to their past work than something altogether different. Even the sleepy, early-morning folk of “Godan Daginn” manages to sound like the sun rising as the mountains open their weary eyes to a new day thanks to intricate guitar work and a background hum of angelic keyboards.
Although the record is draped with some quiet, sparse numbers, there are also some monster moments that rival any of the epic sonic booms that garnered the band international acclaim. “Festival” is classic Sigur Ros at their absolute very best, starting with over four minutes of operatic texture before the cloud bursts into a climax of shifting bass, violin, keyboard, guitar, drum and voice. On “Ara Batur,” they wrangle a full orchestra that meets up with a crescendo of piano halfway through the track and soars in conjunction with Birgisson’s heavenly voice.
Despite the language barrier, no matter what they’re playing, Sigur Ros communicate emotion through their instruments better than anyone. Their melodies clearly don’t get lost in translation, even without an understanding of the lyrics, evident by the combination of gentle piano and Jon Thor Birgisson’s soaring falsetto during “Fljotavik,” which conveys utter heartbreak. Birgisson also makes the band’s first attempt at singing an English song during “All Alright,” as small droplets of piano are scattered around urgent lyrics like, “I want him to know what I’ve done/I want him to know it’s bad.”
On recent releases Sigur Ros has been accused of leaning in more of a traditional direction, but that must be placed in the context of whether your idea of traditional involves strumming an electric guitar with a bow. Yes, these songs have names and it actually sounds like real people playing instruments (well, some of the time), but this is one complete affair that even the most staunch of Sigur Ros supporters will find enjoyable and familiar, despite its newness. They’ve changed direction, but they’ve done so in a manner that is still clearly Sigur Ros, if not even better.
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