(Huh?)
Written: Jan 14 '03 (Updated Jan 12 '05)
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Product Rating:
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Pros: Moody music that takes you to a place you've never been.
Cons: That place is sometimes dreary and frightening.
The Bottom Line: No album title, no song titles, no discernable meaning... It's the weirdest album I listened to in all of 2002... and also one of the best.
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| divad23's Full Review: () by Sigur Ros |
There's some complex concept in physics that has to do with a certain quantity that cannot be accurately measured. Something to do with the atoms or quarks or whatever - the value is changed by the very act of measuring. Now I'm no Heisenberg, but I think a similar principle is at work on the latest Sigur Ros album.
For those just tuning in, Sigur Ros is a four-piece band from Iceland that excels at creating slow, frosty, creepy-but-beautiful landscapes with little more than your basic rock instrumentation and the occasional orchestral accompaniment. They're one of those "indier-than-thou" kind of bands that likes to frustrate listeners and especially critics by creating art that is difficult to describe. It's a successful approach, when you think about it - by defying (or being blissfully unaware of) the conventions of popular music, you manage to catch the attention of consumers who are hungry for something different. Critics do their darndest to put a label on it, but when the overall pace and mood of the music is off-putting to casual music fans, very few people who react negatively to your album have the first clue how to explain it intelligently. Seasoned critics who like to toss around words like "superlative" heap praise on you for rescuing them from the everyday humdrum. And then people read those reviews, and since they can't imagine what the heck it sounds like just from reading, the curious types won't be satisfied until they hear it for themselves. Thus, more fans are born.
At least, that's what happened to me with Sigur Ros. Late last year, not long after I was roped into giving their 1999 album Agaetis Byrjun a spin, the group released another full-length disc, perplexingly titled ( ). One look at the track listing, and two words came to mind - NOT FAIR. None of the album's eight tracks had any titles, the lyrics were all sung in a nonsense language nicknamed "Hopelandish", and the title of the album - if you could call it that - was just a pair of parenthesis! Now how in the world was I supposed to download this one from the internet?
Well, I think deterring fans from downloading might have been part of the idea. This critic, however, persevered, knowing that this was probably one of the ultimate "try before you buy albums", and now, a few months later, I'm hooked. Perhaps I'm not hooked to the extent that many other critics are, rambling on about how ( ) surpasses anything that ever used real words, but I am certainly intrigued and overall pleased with the results of Sigur Ros' latest experiment.
You're probably pulling your hair out by now waiting for me to tell you what this album actually sounds like. Very well, if I must describe it, I'll give it my best attempt, even though I still hold that having to do so is just plain NOT FAIR, because I am bound to fail. Sigur Ros takes more of a minimalist approach than they did on their last record. If it can be imagined, the average song tempo is even more slow and dreary than dirges like "Flugufrelsarinn" and the title track were on Agaetis Byrjun. The full sound that backed up many of my favorite tracks on that album is used sparingly here - less electronics are used overall. The tracks are drawn out to even longer lengths, with the album as a whole running past an hour and the average track length being about eight or nine minutes (the longest is a whopping thirteen!) It's certainly a formidable piece of work.
Unlike Agaetis Byrjun, which flowed smoothly from front to back, ( ) is split into two distinct halves, which seem to tell different sides of the same musical story. There appears to be a bit of a "theme and variation" approach here, with the band often taking one or two musical or lyrical ideas and lingering on them for five minutes or more. If not for the obvious break in the middle, it would be extremely difficult to distinguish most of the tracks from each other after the first two or three listens. Only meticulous listeners will notice most of the breaks - or care, for that matter. With that in mind, realizing that it may be a completely foolish thing to do, I'm going to attempt my usual track-by-track breakdown and hope I don't ruin the whole experience in the process. (Wish me luck!)
(1)
The warm keyboard notes that open the album give the listener a good feel for what the first four tracks are going to sound like - a mostly gentle mixture of piano, light drums, delicate electric guitar notes, and lead singer Jonsi Birgisson's frail, high-pitched vocalizations. The music takes a few minutes to envelop the listener before his voice breaks in, and it's like he's tucking you in for a little bedtime story in his unintelligible language while the snow gently falls outside your room. This particular piece has a surreal feeling to it, especially later on when a few light, wispy noises pass in and out like ghosts, and a bunch of little Jonsis appear, singing in various high-pitches. I can almost picture all of those smaller versions of himself gathering around him, joining the alien chorus - it's creepy but cool in a Radiohead sort of way. One thing you'll definitely notice is that the "lyrics" often resemble English words - I always imagine him singing "You sat alone tonight, you saw the light..." And yet I know that the words aren't really words, nor are they intended to have any tangible meaning.
(2)
If you thought things started off slow, then prepare to be put to sleep (though you'll find out the hard way later that this album is not appropriate music to fall asleep to). The second track opens with a static-drenched wind chill, which segues into a fragile suite mostly built around a solemn finger-picked guitar solo and percussion so light you'd think Georg Holm's kit was about to fall apart if he tapped it with any real force. It's a very calming piece despite the weird noise in the background, which is very representative of the band's overall mood - calm on the surface but turbulent underneath. It takes its time to fade out before passing effortlessly into the next track.
(3)
Gentle, almost church-like organ notes form the bridge between the two tracks, and the organ remains as an underpinning to a lovely (if somewhat repetitive) piano melody. Jonsi's voice is such a gentle presence on this track that you'd forget he's even there. The focus is mostly on the piano, which seems to get louder as the track unfolds, making you expect this track to build into something more intense. But it doesn't. It's just there to help you relax - almost in a "new age" sort of way. But don't get too comfortable - this is the calm before the storm.
(4)
Though this track is commonly known as "The Nothing Song" by most fans (the tracks all had unofficial titles when the band was developing them during concert tours over the last few years), it of course has no official name. It's certainly the most "accessible" track so far, with more assertive drums to nail down a more moderate tempo, chiming bells and guitars in the background, and even a more structured-sounding lyrical structure from Jonsi. I kind of think of this one as the "radio single" even though it doesn't have an iceberg's chance in hell of being played on American radio. Again, the vocal melodies seem to resemble words, and possibly even some of the words I thought I heard in track 1. There's definitely a mood of climax and completion here, which is fitting, as this is the end of the album's first "movement". Ironically, the whole thing ends rather abruptly at around the seven minute mark, with Jonsi spitting out a few last tired words as if he can't catch his breath - and then...
Nothing. Thirty seconds of absolute silence to allow you to digest what's happened so far and prepare yourself for the album's back half. Strange? Yes. But also fitting.
(5)
The second half opens quietly and ominously - and yet soothingly if you're previously accustomed to the band's style. Ironically, even though this may be the slowest track in the Sigur Ros canon, it managed to hook me immediately with its darkly seductive mood. I can't quite explain it - the ultra-slow percussion shuffles by at a rate of about 20 bpm (which is one beat every 3 seconds for the not mathematically inclined), and over the course of the song, it begins to fill out until you realize it's subdivided into a 3/4 beat - like one of those soft jazz ballads where the percussion is mostly the gentle brushing of cymbals - but slowed down even more. Jonsi holds his notes for a while on this one, his weary cries echoing off into near-silence. Though this one runs at about ten minutes long, it never seems to get old, with its haunting guitar textures lurking in the background and its occasional bursts of light, where the tempo speeds up temporarily and the cymbals crash furiously in a desperate attempt to chase the shadows away.
(6)
Descending further into the lonely depths, this track is similar in its construction to the last one - the main difference is a more prominent drum beat and a 4/4 pattern instead of 3/4. This is probably the track that stands out the least on the album - not bad, but by and large a musical idea that was explored better in the previous track. Slow and stark beginning, speed up gradually as the song unfolds, bring the drums and the vocals to the forefront, then fade away and repeat. The noticeable difference here is the return of Jonsi's infamous E-bow guitar playing, which adds to the overall creepiness of the composition even though it isn't as mind-blowingly different of a sound here as it was on Agaetis Byrjun.
(7)
That distorted guitar is the only thing left by the time track six concludes, and even that suddenly falls away, leaving only a lingering note of tension. We've followed the band down their proverbial rabbit hole, but here at the bottom, there is no Wonderland. This track is nicknamed "The Death Song", and for good reason - it's a sad, foreign dirge that keeps tripping over itself in between its schizophrenic fits of rage. Actually, this thirteen-minute behemoth isn't as depressing or disturbing as I'm making it sound - it's mostly just ornery about making its point. Jonsi's vocals are purposefully dry and cracked here - as if he's a dying man stumbling through a frozen desert, and the drums crash about, depicting a man struggling just to keep walking. That same lyrical phrase seems to repeat during the sad, quiet verses - "You say... you say..." or whatever it is. And then, out of nowhere, more crashing drums and cymbals and explosion of frustration - this occurs more than once over the course of the song, which truthfully becomes a bit formulaic despite its refusal to stick to an easily defined tempo. Maybe there's something I'm not getting, but it seems like the band could have effectively pushed the limits a lot more here and made something truly terrifying and beautiful instead of just lingering in the doldrums. Sorry, I have to tell it like it is.
(8)
The album's final track (ironically nicknamed "The Pop Song" - kind of reminds me of a trilogy of "The ____ Song" titles on a recent Marilyn Manson album) perks things up a bit - not that I mind the darkness; it's just that a few musical ideas were starting to wear out their welcome there. An appreciated guitar intro brightens the mood here while keyboard-generated ghosts swoop around in the background - this sometimes reminds me of a slowed-down Remy Zero. Much like track 4, there's a definite structure at work here, which I guess fits with the song's nickname - you could easily sing along or at least hum. But what's this? Jonsi appears to be singing those exact same phrases over again. Is each track really a different interpretation of the same song, or is he just getting rather uncreative with his vocal gibberish? This might cause a few dedicated fans to think twice, but I guess redundant nonsense lyrics are better than redundant English lyrics. Taken on its own, this is a great track, because you just don't expect the grand finale that's to come. After a very pleasant melody, the song once again takes a turn into darker territory as the drums become more prominent, and Jonsi begins to wail away in a higher pitch while the guitars hold steady and tension begins to build. Before you know it, the drums are thumping away furiously, getting louder and louder like an oncoming freight train... the first time I listened to this track, I could swear the music had established some sort of spiritual connection with my body, because my heartbeat was speeding up in time with the music. Finally, the levee breaks and everything just goes nuts as Georg unleashes a sweet drum solo, banging away with an unexpected urgency that makes you wonder where all that energy was for the rest of the album. No matter - it's a sweet payoff here as the band turns in my favorite track by them to date (even topping "Ný BatterÃ" off their last album). It's really simple structurally since the same chords are repeating over and over - but it's a heavenly coda that is at once a fearful and joyful noise. Almost a 12-minute song, and it's still over all too soon.
When it all ends, you'll probably be left wondering what the point of all that was. Which is a dumb question if I ever heard one - but we're all asking it anyway. I can't tell you what the purpose behind this band's music is, because I don't even know if there is one, other than perhaps to be enigmatic. Further complicating matters is the fact that the album's liner notes consist of nothing but grey, ghosted images of reeds and other plant life - supposedly a blank canvas for you to write down your own interpretations of the songs or something like that. Take a look at the band's official website, and you'll find a mysterious, partially-complete "lyrics" page, which seems to be auto-generated from user input. My guess is that Sigur Ros is having a good laugh at our expense, watching everyone from you and me to Thom Yorke trying to discern meaning where there is none.
I've heard critics attempt to explain the title by saying that ( ) is "a parenthetical statement containing silence", or even something as absurd as "two sausages kissing". The mathematician side of me thinks that it represents the act of multiplying something by nothing. My programmer side thinks it's a function that receives no arguments, resulting in the same output regardless of the preconceived notions you put into it. But that's all B.S. I have no clue what this means and I don't care. All I can say is, step inside Sigur Ros' icy realm and take a look around for yourself. It'll be a humbling, perplexing, and hopefully an ultimately rewarding experience. Or at least a good way to whittle away an hour of your life.
ALBUM WORTH:
(1) $1.50
(2) $1
(3) $1
(4) $1.50
(5) $1.50
(6) $.50
(7) $0
(8) $2
Adjustment for Unusual Song Lengths: 1.5x
TOTAL: $13.50
Band Members:
Jo Por (Josi) Birgisson: Vocals, Guitars
Kjartan (Kjarri) Sveinsson: Keyboards
Orri Pall Dyrason: Drums
Georg (Goggi) Holm: Bass
Websites:
http://www.sigur-ros.com (Official; mostly info on ( ) )
http://www.sigur-ros.co.uk (UK Site, more detailed band info and mp3 downloads!)
Not Good Music to Play While: Going to Sleep (you'll toss and turn and have nightmares during tracks 5, 6, and 7 and wake up in a cold sweat with your heart racing during track 8)
Really Not Good Music to Play While: Driving (you'll fall asleep at the wheel during the first half, or if you manage to stay awake through that, you'll accelerate to unheard of speeds during track 8, and either way you'll end up in a ditch on the side of the road)
Great Music to Play While: (?)
(By the way, if you're brave enough to try downloading this on your favorite peer-to-peer program before buying it, I suggest searching for "sigur ros untitled" or something like that. But expect to find a lot of tracks incorrectly labeled, as well as some red herrings if you're using KaZaa.)
Recommended:
Yes
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divad23
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Member: David Martin
Location: Pasadena, CA
Reviews written: 567
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About Me:
Just add an implicit "in my humble opinion" to every sentence I write.
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