Sigur Rós
Takk...

There is a child named Glòsòli who, one day, wakes up, rises from his bed, and notices that everything outside his window is dark. There is no more light. Thus begins his journey in search of the Sun, which he thinks has been stolen by someone.

This is roughly the beginning of the beautiful fairy tale that underlies "Takk..." ("thank you" in Icelandic). And it is around these fairy tale atmospheres that this new, great work of the band from afar unfolds.
The emotions you feel when listening to this music are comparable to those that any person has in their heart when they see a dewdrop ready to fall from the tip of a lily petal among the hedges of their garden: simple, pure emotions.
Much more similar to "Agaetis Byrjun", for those airy, yet imperceptible and melancholic sounds, than to "()", more dark and heavy (but still great). The songs (even if calling them that is reductive) share a single, fundamental aspect: they rise in intensity from almost silence, grow, and then reach a thrilling climax of guitars and percussion (Sigur Ròs are consistent: this is their trademark). This is how it is for the cheerful "Glòsòli", and so it is for the beautiful "Hoppìpolla", introduced by faint piano notes, to which strings and drums are added, a joyous and memorable ascent.
An ascent that seems to continue in "Meò Blòònasir", quite similar in rhythm, and more generally in sound (though much calmer). The sound of a music box and grand violins seem to inspire the shrill voice of Jonsi in "Sè lest", in which a playful march of trumpets almost reminiscent of the passage of a king among the adoring crowd of his principality finds space. With "Saeglòpur", there's a leap back towards "()": piano highlighted, distant and echoing voice just like the guitars and once again powerful percussion (one of the constants in all of Sigur Ròs's work). And if "Mìlanò" allows the listener to catch their breath, despite the continuous ascent towards the usual strong blend of piano/guitars, drums (only to slightly but gradually descend in intensity), with the beautiful "Gong", you get to one of the most "pop" tracks, in my opinion, of the Icelandic band's discography: drums, guitars, and violins are still there, but here the rhythm is different, much faster and obsessive, with Jonsi's voice stretching out immensely, oscillating and wonderful in its "howls".
After the somewhat subdued interlude of "Andvari", with "Svo Hljòtt", the album reaches its peak of maximum inspiration, involvement, and beauty: a melancholic ballad, initially accompanied only by the piano and the singer's voice, then joined by the drums, first from the background, then forceful, strings, and guitars. The crescendo is majestic: this song would have been perfect both in "Agaetis Byrjun" and in "()". A must, simply exceptional.
And, as a worthy conclusion to a great album, we find "Heysàtan": the circle closes as it opened. Almost in silence, like a lullaby. What Glòsòli hears after finishing his adventure, after tucking himself in and going to bed, tired but happy for having found the sun.
And turns off the light.The end of a fantastic adventure, between woods and fairies. Glimmers of sun among the tree branches and fireflies at night.
"Takk..." conveys light, shadows, melancholy, happiness. These are the emotions I felt. And when you finish listening to it, you put it back in the player to start the fairy tale again.
By now, Sigur Ròs is an internationally established group (their tour proves it), they're incredible live, and fortunately, neither radio nor television will ever be their bread and butter. It’s up to us to search for them and diligently stay informed to keep an eye on them, as if we were chasing a light leading us into the heart of a conifer forest to discover an unknown and fantastic world.
Those who thought the Icelandic band had exhausted their supplies after the controversial "()", will find an answer in "Takk...", which may flaw ONLY in a certain uniformity: there aren't such clear style changes between tracks (but to me, it's not necessarily a flaw, on the contrary: the work maintains a certain coherence). In short, Sigur Ròs thank the audience, and I personally thank them: fresh, clean, new air, air of poetry.
For those who like it.
Ladies and gentlemen, a great album.