Icelandic support Amina are unique and creative. They are four girls, a couple with a cute pixie like look to them, performing experimental and original music. Long-time collaborators with Sigur Rós, Amina’s sound is a mixture of Architecture in Helsinki and Sigur Rós. They play bizarre instruments like a cello bow on the side of a saw, and rimming the tops of glasses with a wet finger. Surprisingly, these create some really moving and amazing sounds.
Sigur Rós enter the stage with a white mesh curtain in front of them. They open their set with a new song, with the curtain drawing away as the song finishes. The show has started.
From the beginning, you can tell it’s going to be an emotional show. When vocalist/guitarist Jón þor (Jónsi) Birgisson stands behind the microphone with nothing in front of him, his hands hanging straight by his side, he looks like a new kid at school, standing at the front of the class and nervous to be the centre of attention. He rolls his hands into fists and flicks his thumb in and out of his fingers. He looks vulnerable and scared until he opens his mouth and begins singing. Then he just looks sad and tortured.
His face contorts into expressions of pain and hurt as he sings his Hopelandic words, the room echoing with the angelic sounds coming from his mouth. At times Jónsi looks like he is about to cry, this profound hurt surging out of him. It’s almost heartwrenching seeing him sing – it is like his hurt works its way into you as well.
Tonight, this enchanting Icelandic band performs a mixture of older tracks from Agætis Byrjun, several of their untitled songs and some newer tracks, to close the set with Hafssol. Coming out for an encore, the band ends the night with one of my favourite Sigur Rós tracks, Untitled 8 from ( ), also known as the Pop Song.
The band pull you into this elf-like world with Jónsi’s angelic voice and e-bow bringing this other world quality to their music. By the end of the night, everyone in the room has been touched by this magical band. At one point, all is quiet in the room as the band stops mid song. The spotlight is on Jónsi. His hands are fumbling by his side, a pained look on his face. The audience holds their breath waiting. When he starts to sing again, we let out a sigh – the emotion has once again started to stir in us.
There is something really endearing and sweet about him that makes you want to wrap your warms arms around his slender body and hold him until he stops feeling hurt. There’s also something quite childlike and innocent about him, like the way he goes and sits on the floor cross legged near the keyboardist Kjartan Sveinsson’s feet at the end of a song when he no longer has a part to play.
No review could ever do justice to how beautiful Sigur Rós are live. At times they rock out, but mostly they just bring you to the brink of this indescribable feeling, part ecstasy, part sadness, part longing. They leave you teetering on the edge of reality until ever so slightly they give you a gentle push and you feel your feet leave the ground.
Put simply, Sigur Rós are just perfect.
