Well, having done the research, I’m warming to this Jonsi Birgisson — gay, blind in one eye, loves Iron Maiden, plays the guitar with a cello bow and sings, when the mood takes him, in a made-up language called “Hopelandic.” Yes, Jonsi’s all right with me. But his band Sigur Rós had me huffing and puffing a week ago Tuesday like some sort of enraged policeman. Bombastic washes of sound? Plinky-plonk nursery keyboards? And Jonsi’s emote-till-you-drop falsetto curling baroquely above it all? No, no, and no again.
I can see how a dose of this stuff might be indicated once in a while, if you’re sick of the post-punk thing and the metal thing and all things flat, callow, and stylized — if you long for drama and luxuriance, swollen hearts, the works. But in their way, these mood-based dynamics are just as played out. With each empty, breastbeating swell, we were washed further into some movieland cliché of significance, of “atmosphere” — soundtrack music, really. And the place was sold out!
Small people with characterful faces flickered like goblins in the caverns and grottos of the Orpheum. Every song ended with a second of worshipful silence, a gulp of pure awe. “Iceland!” yelled some young darling. Yes, yes, Sigur Rós are from Iceland. And, in their vastness they partake of its elemental landscape. Their melodies rise like whale songs from the secret depths of existence, and so on. Old Jonsi stands high-shouldered, keening in his overripe manner, hunching over to give it a bit of cello bow on the guitar. The drummer bashes out a big-cymballed Godspeed You Black Emperor beat, the bass line grumbling beneath. The faces of film stars meet and kiss in the firmament. We swirl, we climb, we crest, we simmer to a finale. We will not make it home in time to watch Rollergirls.
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Here, as on 2005’s Takk, Sigur Rós have chosen to distill their rapture epics into shorter, more accessible bursts of swelling beauty.
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Sigur Rós’s albums have always sounded like film soundtracks, so downloading the music sans video from their upcoming EP/DVD Sæglópur isn’t much of a stretch.
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The year 1983 was a heady time for metal. Many a successful career got jump-started with a prominent release: Mötley Crüe's Shout at the Devil , Def Leppard's Pyromania , Dio's Holy Diver , Iron Maiden's Piece of Mind .
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As a million fingers air-guitared frantically, Maiden put on a fireballing motherfucker of a show.
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You know you've made it to rock’s Big Time when interviewers catch you as you're boarding a jet, instead of loading the tour van. And although Athens, OH's Skeletonwitch didn’t happen to be boarding their own Iron Maiden-like 747 when we reached them, they’ve got too much going on these days to make it all happen on four wheels.
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This month, I was able to catch the Boston stops on the tours of two legendary acts, known to their fans as single-word entities: Maiden and Barbra.
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To the Sigur Rós fans still weeping over the band’s decision to scrap their latest full-length and take an indefinite paternity leave: dry your tears with Jónsi’s uplifting solo debut.
- The Big Hurt: This week in free stuff
In yet another blow to the traditional record industry, the Charlatans UK have released their new album, You Cross My Path , as a free download.
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Live Reviews
, Entertainment, Music, Pop and Rock Music, More
, Entertainment, Music, Pop and Rock Music, Iron Maiden, Heavy Metal, Sigur Ros, Jonsi Birgisson, Less
