There are moments in life when you feel like you're trapped in the heart-wrenching scene of a Steven Spielberg film. Whether it's because you finally realize how much you love your significant other, or because you just realized how amazing the moon looks when it's full, these epiphany-filled moments provide a fuzzy feel-good feeling that makes you smile. That's when you understand why films like "You've Got Mail" are made or albums like 69 Love Songs are recorded; why the color of love is red, and why the twinkle of a star can produce tears. Fight as much as you'd like, these moments are imbedded in everyone's existence, no matter how cheesy or cliched. When listening to Sigur Rós, these mushy sentiments not only appear more frequently, but at ten times the prescribed strength.
Hey, hey, hey! Get back here, heavy metal rocker! These feelings are completely natural; besides, if you just take 71 minutes out of your life, you'll experience an album with more emotion than all Emo albums strung together. ( ), the band's third LP, is a climactic, tear-jerking diary; the music has the ability to dwarf just about any album played before or after. It's the kind of album that is so intangibly gigantic that you feel unworthy and uncomfortable in its presence, like trying to chat-it-up with Bill O'Reilly about current affairs, or trying to keep up with the elitist art gala frequenters in Manhattan.
Despite its epic scale, ( ) is more reclusive than its over-the-top predecessor, Ágætis Byrjun. The eight tracks are methodically divided into two parts: the first features light-hearted, almost spiritual tracks, while the last half consists of bombastic compositions, replete with crescendos, wailing guitars, and thick layers of noise. The two halves are divided by 30 seconds of silence. Each song retains a snail-paced tempo, opting for a consistently subdued style rather than the eclectic stew of Ágætis Byrjun.
The elements that made Ágætis so affective are hard-at-work again: the reverb-drenched instruments, the bowed guitars, the lush violins, the thick basslines, the falsetto-laden crooning. But these elements are shoved through a different filter, one that is almost monochromatic, as each track has similar emotional outputs. However, the filter did not weed out the consonance and heart of its predecessor; if anything, ( ) continues right where the emotions on Ágætis left off, at least for the first half of the album. The second half, however, shows the darker side of Sigur Rós, a side that has been shown previously, but not in all its unabashed glory like on this album.
Track 7 is the definite standout track. In 13 minutes of intense, incredibly moody instrumentation, the song takes you to the depths of hell and back, or so the music could imply with its doom & gloom operation. The use of dynamics and the wavering tempo is like no other on the album, building an impenetrable wall of world-weary ache. It's like Radiohead's unreleased "Big Ideas" and "Svefn-G-Englar" combined-- on acid. Elsewhere, track 3 is a beautiful instrumental piece with a serious tone and light-hearted undercurrent, and it plays wonderfully. Through the warm chords and modest instrumentation lies the surreal pathos of Sigur Rós' world.
What makes ( ) ultimately more successful than Ágætis is its tasteful use of time. In retRóspect, Ágætiswas a very busy album. Other than the arrhythmic interludes between the songs, each track overflowed with instruments and ideas, especially the overdose of strings. ( ), on the other hand, stretches the songs over longer periods, creating much desired breathing room. That's not to say that ( ) doesn't have its busy moments; there are times when the album is so thick that you are almost suffocating. But when things quiet down, the songs display Sigur Rós at their most intense, because any bad note or missed hit would disorient the listener and potentially ruin the song. Even with the more raw sound, Sigur Rós execute these silent moments flawlessly.
However, with all my praise, the album is not perfect. As great as the album is, there's one thing that I will never be able to get around: the singing. Jon Thor Birgisson plays the lead singer/guitarist. His voice seems foreign upon first listens but sounds incredibly natural within a couple repeats. It's one of the most unique and intense voices in modern music. However, my qualm with the singing has to do with the lyrics, or lack thereof.
The idea of this album is that Jonsi sings in Hopelandic (his own language), and you the listener are given the opportunity to derive your own interpretation and write them down in the blank booklet provided. Okay, sounds fair enough; besides, I never knew what they sang on Ágætis, anyway. However, the pitfall comes when Jonsi (either intentionally or unintentionally) practically sings the same phrases on each track. Of the seven tracks that feature singing, only track 5 does not have a line similar to "yoo sigh-a-lo." But even still, track 5 has syllables that are ubiquitous over the course of the album. And it doesn't help that each song essentially repeats the same line, so what we are left with is a very limited vocabulary. This idea, coupled with its consistently dragging tempo, makes for a repetitive listen, no matter how different the instrumentation between each song is-- which is not a lot in itself.
Despite this shortcoming, there are enough positives to overlook its uninventive vocals and to concentrate on the music. It's not often an album of this caliber is released; the fact that Sigur Rós would unveil such an album is very admirable. Without delving too far into experimentation, Sigur Rós create something fresh and new that still uses conventions like consonance and guitar. And the band's penchant for experimentation plays a significant role, despite the high potential for diatribe. With just those elements alone, Sigur Rós has earned my respect, but the fact that they can pull it off with sophistication and a sense of unfettered dedication is like apple pie. Oh, and for those of you blowing the pretentious whistle due to the album title and interlude of silence, I think the band has already earned their badge with Ágætis. Though that does not automatically grant them free-access without criticism, it definitely establishes them as serious songwriters on the way to something seminal. So get out of the way. Sigur Rós' death and dismemberment rampage is in full gear.
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