Sigur Rós
( )

Lunar cliffs overlooking your deserts, all your deserts kept for years. Placid, scorching, filled only with images. And wings. Immobile wings. You go out, close the door, there's a fire. It's inside. Inside your smile, your hands, the absolute desire to tear at life, the non-life that dances. Look at yourself, you're nothing, a thousand blue particles, you are. Close that door, fool, it's the non-paradise, it's you. But they are only stuttering syllables, you can't close anything, it's the real world: don't you understand? The one you've always seen, the one that has always cared for you. Whispers, apostrophes, skew angles, vast expanses, restless open plains in the whitest white of white. Chills, and melted ice, it's the dissonant rope of your throat, smoke from your resurrected ashes. You get lost: you can't. You can't stop it: it's everywhere. Call it what you want. It's the demon, your childlike heart, the broken lily, the magma, the dark and black void, water, water, water, air. Your bastard heart, the orgasm, the hidden serpent. Approach the precipice, please, there's a very sweet lullaby, a very tender kiss, the picture of nothingness, your mother looking at you. Life embraces non-life, you are everything. Dig, Golgotha is the world, it's time. Grow to go back, lie down to rise. Fall. Swarming mass graves where you bury the anvils that crush you, fly. And look from above, pine woods and ice, bare islands, voids torn closed inside tears of fire. You've opened the door forever, you know, they have taken you. And never was it more beautiful, never was it more true. You have finished being yourself, bite and cry, do it now, your pure word, your bleeding chest, you in the immense, the immense in a fist, you have so much life, built on your beloved non-life, creatures gallop around you, they love you. They love you. They love you. They love you. That's why they have decided to kill you. Shine, show how the mirror is broken, and all the pieces of you come back together, scattered, tracing the true lines, pushing the black to make it darker, you've always wanted it, you've always sought it, the beyond, the darkness, the sky, the disorder, the harmony of disorder, the infinite cry, the tenderest voices of tears, lined up one by one, unfulfilled perceptions, sick animals, now free, all the spilled drops, and each one has its name, your face, death. Death, death, and light. Light. The l-i-g-h-t. Shhhhh. You. The universe. God. And nothingness. The nothingness of everything. The scream. Silence. Unviolated layer of silence that absorbs you. Drains life inside non-life inside death. The beginning. The end. The beginning of your end. The phoenix that chirps. The snow. Twisted beaks and dwarf palms. All the unthinkable endless seconds. Fear. What has been and what you don't know. What you are. The nerve that begets madness. The inverted pyramid. Eyes inside blind eyes.

Sigur Ros. Untitled. Nothing more.

Ah, ok, you want a more "normal" review (you're too normal):

Boundless landscapes, sound depths of penetrating emotional intensity, where the journey between earth and sky, between darkness and dream, between life and death, leads you to the discovery of an imaginary world, incredibly real and perfect. You can call it post-rock music, or alternative-prog, maybe experimental, or more simply music of the soul. It's incredible how a group coming from such a distant land like Iceland, or maybe actually from some even more alien world, in a few moments manages to create a sound and spiritual dimension that you recognize as extremely close, the vibrations you've always listened to, but so far only within yourself. That's what happened to me, once you hear them, you understand that you can't do without them anymore. Because they give substance and hope, they dig oceans and raise mountains, transform moments, fill unbridgeable voids, bring you closer to God. They nourish you. If you want to fly beyond everything, stop time, and follow the slow rhythm of a heartbeat, that from the still expanses of ice unleashes the overwhelming majesty of a submerged fire, if you want to dematerialize the contours of the air and expand it until you see beyond the light, if you're looking for something inside of you, something true... this is your record, this is the music, this is the moment...

Masterpiece