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Rating: And if Ian Curtis had played in Pompeii?
So I start from the end, from the Essential, I start from the second half of “Untitled#8,” which closed with words I cannot say the two hours of this beautiful and intense concert: the highest marks could be given just for these last ten minutes.
Those who have already seen them know, it is not a novelty for the Icelanders to close with their most shocking piece, an unrepeatable peak of their career and probably of rock music of the noughties. For those attending for the first time, however, it was simply a unique experience, an experience as intense as it is difficult to explain. The feeling is that of being part of an important moment in the History of Music: the endless, dilated, expanded crescendo, the growing tension, the rising beat of the percussion, it's all a thrill; Jonsi tearing through the atmosphere with his piercing falsetto, Jonsi abruptly withdrawing from the microphone, shaking his head as if seized by epilepsy, as if trying to hold the overflowing tension within himself, Jonsi returning, behind the microphone, to once again shake the sky with his cry, and this an infinite number of times, too many times, it is almost unbearable, it is so intense that one wishes to reach the end of it all, like waiting for an orgasm that won't arrive. And in the meantime, the music grows. "Now he gets the attack wrong, help, now he gets the attack wrong", and yet, always a moment before the imminent explosion (which isn't there, which is always postponed, but latent, ready to tear the veil of reality, it is near, very near to manifesting), yet, as stated, Jonsi's falsetto returns once more to shake our soul, then nothing again, shaking his head like Ian Curtis did live, then the music rises again, the bass pierces the air with its epic tingling, the music lands, the music comes back to life, an infinity of times, damn! explode damn it!, and finally, here it is, the orgasm, suddenly, expected but unexpected in its burst, in its beauty, in its capability of drawing indescribable images, volcanic eruption, fiery stones and lapilli from the sky, rough seas, imposing ice crusts furrowing untamable waves, the wall of guitars, Jonsi bent over his, the colors, the flashing lights, the sumptuous accompaniment of the violins, the trumpets of the apocalypse, the liberating cry of Jonsi, the frantic and tentacular beat of Dyrason, assuming a titanic profile, among the cymbals and tousled hair, reminding me of Nick Mason in the famous “Live in Pompeii.” This is the important moment, in which for once I had the impression of being in front of History, of the History of music.
In my mind, I can only draw a comparison with Radiohead, whom I had the opportunity to see live a few months ago. Radiohead and Sigur Rós are probably the best artists in the realm of rock and its derivatives in circulation today, although the latter continue to pay a hefty price to the former (and it was felt even tonight). But where Radiohead has now surpassed the boundary of perfection (not understanding that more perfection means less perfection), Sigur Ros, perhaps with fewer ambitions, show greater awareness of their status, of what they can and want to offer. Sigur Ros have been a very important reality in the last ten years of music, they know it well and are not naive, they know they are a perfect machine of emotions and this makes them perfect tonight, something that didn’t happen a few months ago with Yorke and company, despite the acoustics not being the best tonight and the volumes not being up to the mark. For instance, while a normal visual apparatus (a simple screen to project some images - what a triviality!) is now a thing of the past for Radiohead, who no longer know what to invent to avoid seeming banal, Sigur Ros have no fear of sounding or appearing banal: halfway between savvy artists and children who still play with emotions, they set up a show where the minimalist scenography, although refined and studied, is the perfect complement to their music. From this point of view, Sigur Ros win. Not to mention, of course, in the choice of the setlist of songs to reproduce, which is simply perfect: the realization of a dream for every fan of the band.
The 2013 tour of Sigur Ros has the task of promoting the good “Kveikur,” to which ample spaces are obviously granted (five episodes from the latest work of the Icelanders) within a setlist that, as an ideal greatest hits, manages to touch the key moments of a career now more than fifteen years old, with special attention to the band's important albums: “Agaetis Byrjun,” “( )” and “Takk...”. The notable absence of the extraordinary keyboardist Kjartan Sveinsson, who recently left the band to dedicate himself to personal projects, is not felt too much, also because the three survivors are joined on stage by a very respectable ensemble (three strings, three winds, a keyboardist and even a second percussionist and a second guitarist, the latter essential to reinforce the sound where Jonsi primarily focused on the noise-ambient languors produced by handling his indispensable bow). Not to mention the musicians' multi-instrumentalist vocation, which brought both Jonsi and drummer Dyrason behind the piano or the xylophone.
The set starts with a calm piece, “Ifirboro,” from the latest work, which unexpectedly ousts the opener “Brennisteinn,” which will arrive promptly a moment later, immediately imposing the muscular sound that characterized the latest studio effort (Goggi's bass is dirty and powerful, earning more than a moment of protagonism tonight). But it's already time for classics, which are starting to be many, given the high quality of the Icelanders' works: they follow with “Glosoli” (from “Takk...”) and the beautiful “Vaka” (alias “Untitled#1, from the acclaimed “( )”), opened by the unmistakable looping sounds that herald its advent: the first truly magical moment of the evening, where the emotional performance of our artists is accompanied by projections reinterpreting the suggestive video originally shot to promote the piece (the one of children with gas masks).
The atmosphere is that of a mystical ritual, the audience follows with reverent silence, the subdued lights and the slowed images, with a naturalistic and exquisitely Nordic background, reproduced on a large mobile monitor, accompany the slow evolutions of the Icelanders' pieces. Jonsi's singing is a soliloquy, a solo song that cannot be reproduced in any way by the present; his voice: perfect, so much so that one wonders “but when he will lose that voice, which he uses like a musical instrument and is the true soul of Sigur Ros, what will the band do? Will they shut down the circus?”. The pieces are performed with extreme fidelity to the studio versions (except for some expansions in the endings); on the side of improvisation, we will therefore not have great surprises tonight, but it is already a lot that such sublime pieces simply materialize without major flaws: the added value, besides Jonsi's immense interpretation, is given by the interludes of strings and winds that emphasize the fundamental passages of the compositions, ensuring that the sound gains thickness and the performance gains in intensity, where the underlying structure remains based on the slow beat of the percussion, the roundness of the bass, and the sonic roughness of Jonsi’s guitar that enchants and makes one dream, an aesthetic swaying given by the passing of his bow along the guitar strings.
The catchy “Isiakj,” one of the most successful moments of “Kveikur” (and probably the only one that will remain steadily in future setlists), with its pop clatter is a burst of life that was needed: the songs from the latest album, the most lively, though showing less depth than the classics, are wisely rationed, constituting providential breaths of fresh air that animate a performance that, depending on the moments, risks dangerously slipping into the soporific. Sigur Ros are pure emotion, it is hard to expect twists tonight, other than those dictated by the pure emotions evoked by their music. It is all enormously subjective, so one must wait, know how to wait for the moment.
An intense “Saeglopur” (still from “Takk...”) ferries us towards another important moment, that dedicated to the tracks of the historic “Agaetis Byrjun.” The hypnotic bass opening “Olsen Olsen” is already goosebumps, but among pauses and restarts, the ovation occurs in the end, with the crackling advent of the winds, while the dazzling lights, with perfect timing, for the first time tear through the semi-darkness that had dominated until then. Thus unfolds, with darkness once again dominating (a darkness illuminated by a constellation of red bulbs, a scenic trick of great suggestion), another magical piece to be jealously preserved in memory: it is the long-awaited moment of the classic of classics of Sigur Ros, that “Svefn-g-Englar” first their international success single, real highlight of this first part of the concert. What can I say, another ten textbook minutes. Before the electric upsurge concludes the track (also in this case a top-notch visual apparatus will come to aid, the reprise of the known video - the one of children with Down syndrome - but in a reworked form that retains the poetry), we will witness a long pause where Jonsi sings using the guitar microphone: he is alone, in silence, in darkness, his cry is muted and distant, seeing him whisper, with his face pressed against his guitar, in an unreal atmosphere, with soft dreamlike contours, is another moment that etches strongly in the heart of the spectator (like when, later, our hero engages in a long, impressive sibilance that amazes, among applause, the incredulous bystanders - but I do not remember the track, pardon me).
After the emotional shock, the panica ecstasy of “Svenfn-g-Englar” it is literally impossible to maintain the same levels, and indeed the concert continues under the profile of the “ordinary” with the new “Hrafntinna,” with its ritualistic and sloppy gait (great work done on the percussion, using not exactly conventional means), to then plunge again into the intimate catalepsy of the beautiful “Varuo,” the only excerpt from the penultimate and underrated “Valtari,” a piece that takes us back to the ethereal Sigur Ros of the origins, but with that thunderous post-rock crescendo in the finale that surely sent shivers down more than one spectator's spine. It’s the turn of two more tracks from “Takk...”: the inevitable “Hoppipolla” and “Meo Bloonasir,” followed by the title track of the latest album, another assertive piece, with mechanical stride, which creates some movement in the audience. The atmosphere is heating up, the audience is jumping and clapping hands, trying to interact with the band, which remains closed behind a wall of autism, as if playing from another dimension. The closing of the set is therefore entrusted to the exhilarating “Festival,” the only extract from “Meo Suo i Eyrum Vio Spilum Endalaust,” the turning point album that didn’t convince most; the piece is nonetheless superb and merits building a connection with the audience, which has meanwhile definitively loosened up.
Our guys leave the stage amid applause, only to return shortly after for the deserved encores. A solemn green light floods the stage, the return to the stage coincides with the apocalyptic sounds of a disturbing, tense, dark, dramatic, almost atypical piece for Sigur Ros, a song I personally did not know, but struck me extremely positively (I will later discover that the piece is called “I Gaer” and is contained in “Hvarf-Heim”): it is the most orchestral and epic Sigur Ros that gift their fans a gem that was not expected after so many emotions.
Finally, the unmistakable arpeggio of “Untitled # 8” starts... but what will follow, my dear gentlemen, sincerely, in all frankness, can no longer be described...
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