Sigur Ros - AgætisByrjun

Wed 5th Jul, 2006 in Music Reviews

If Sigur Ros’ latest album, Takk...(2005), is a joyous celebration of the band returning to Earth, then their second album, Agætis Byrjun (1999), is a chronicle of their journey through space. Agætis Byrjun is Sigur Ros at their most otherworldly. On this album, vocalist Jón Thór Birgisson sounds truly alien; his soul-piercing falsetto vocals soaring over the weeping of violin, piano, organ and horn for over seventy minutes. The instrumentation on this album is arguably more engrossing and spacious than on Takk…, toning down the dramatic crescendos, drifting along at a gentle pace that allows the music to lap over you like a gentle wave before breaking into something new. Listening to Agætis Byrjun evokes a feeling of melancholic awe, among a spectrum of other emotions, as if one is being taken on a vaguely familiar journey to a lost, romantic place.

After a disembodied intro consisting of overlapping vocal lines, the album begins with the track ‘Svefn-G-Englar’.”Roughly translated to ‘Sleepwalkers’, it is appropriately named, for this track is one of the most dreamlike pieces of music ever recorded in the modern era. Slipping into the deepest of organ tones, the intro then fades into echoes of gentle chimes, reminiscent of dripping water, coming from what seems like a far off distance. Ambient it may seem, until the immense roar of Birgisson’s guitar takes lead; a violin bow tears at the strings, lifting you, sleeping, over the rolling arctic landscape that Sigur Ros’ music evokes in one’s mind. Upon landing, the song subsides into an intensifying series of electronic drumbeats before fading into static.

The string section makes its real debut on the next track, ‘Starálfur (Staring Elf),’ which seems to draw upon every sorrowful, poignant, melodramatic film moment the west has ever seen. Cinematic in its feel from the beginning, the song starts with wistful violin, accompanying a understated piano line that delicately provides rhythm. Invoking world folk music as much as classical, Birgisson sings with such emotion that one can almost understand the meaning behind his alien words, before the track breaks down into modest acoustic parts at unforeseen moments, ending on scratches and echoes of the sound of the wind.

‘Hjartað Hamast (Bamm Bamm Bamm)’ (The Heart Pounds [Bamm Bamm Bamm]) invokes feelings of Pink Floyd with its bluesy harmonica, bass and piano intro, but is transformed into another creature, distinctly Sigur Ros-ian, as the soaring violin-guitar takes lead once again. Birgisson’s vocals first border on murmurs, as if letting you in on a metaphysical secret, before the song ruptures into a immense harmony of voices, strings, organ, delay and feedback. The piece takes another epic turn as the piano twinkles ahead of violin melodies and fuses with the enormous blast of fuzz that ends the song. This song in particular highlights the multiplicity of sensations and twists in mood that are innate to this entire album.

Agætis Byrjun is an album whose textures and melodies engulf you completely, leaving you, after listening to it in its entirety, with a significant feeling of accomplishment. Such is the way Sigur Ros’ music works as it takes you on a long, transcendental flight from the everyday world. This is music that stands removed from historical notions of genre. It is not rock, classical, world music or ambient, but something unto itself. It is pure. Some critics have said that this album is not entirely original, which, perhaps, is a cliché given the nature of our times. Regardless, it is rare to find an album this physically moving and emotionally evocative in the 21st century.