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Rating: I had a crappy day at work, and knowing that a 13 km traffic jam had formed at Pian del Voglio because of a fender bender didn’t cheer me up.
The gears stayed in the first two positions while time passed. Only it was rushing along the Bologna-Florence route that day.
I arrived at Boboli after three and a quarter hours of suffering. And I told myself that perhaps it would have been better to just go see Tom Waits the following week and call it a day... Additionally, I was almost sure that Sigur Ros would bore me. I couldn't have explained the reason in advance except for hypothetical feelings... I told myself that I could handle some "Icelandic tunes"—especially if they were taken from Agaetis, ( ), and Takk-, but who knows about an entire concert.
The scenery was sparse yet vast. The stage had potentially luminous spheres, and the garden plain was enlivened by an audience that seemed attentive. In the Prato delle Colonne, everything was ready, and somehow, from the moment the first note of Svefn-G-Englar began, everything seemed to clear up. Including my initial, and unjustified, reluctance.
Jonsi’s voice is that of an Anti-Charon, who through the air transports some fortunate passengers to the breezy shores of a beautiful paradise.
And the stars were seen and heard, not just at the end of the Chant! Olsen Olsen, Se Lest, Glosoli, Hoppipolla. A light and initiatory ride; as light as it is sometimes incredibly heavy. Just ask the bow scraping the strings of a guitar brutalized in the raw Untitled #8, or the bass on which a drumstick taps when fingers aren't enough.
Finally, the usual band in white suits and the Amiina violins accompanied 90 minutes that I will hardly forget. Usually, this happens with unexpected beauty. And when Jonsi apologizes to a "theater" audience for the malfunction of the piano harmonics, the same audience responds with a carefree and sincere applause. Tonight, you have nothing to apologize for. I imagine that tonight even some garden statues appreciated your out-of-tune sound. Why not believe it, in the end; after all, one more fairy tale or less...
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