Sigur Ros - Live At The Arlene Schnitzer

            When I walked into the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall on Monday night to see the Icelandic post-rock group Sigur Ros perform, I had no idea what to expect. The group is famed for their breathtaking and otherworldly sound, which they have perfected over the course of six albums; the same adjectives could easily be applied to describing their live performances. But beyond that, I am at a loss for words at how to describe the show. In a single nutshell, it was stunning. For a moment, nevermind the fact that the music performed is unbelievably beautiful – anybody who has ever listened to a Sigur Ros record is familiar with their sound, with Jonsi Birgisson’s heavenly falsetto, with the lush soundscapes of strings and brass. Watching this music be performed in itself is mesmerizing – Birgisson plays his guitar with a cello bow, creating shards of piercingly gorgeous feedback, and watching him saw away at his strings is utterly fascinating. But it’s the show itself that was so spectacular: multi-colored lights flashed on and off violently in time with the pounding drum beat of “Ny Batteri,” and “Festival” reached its triumphant climax accompanied by the brilliant flashing of strobe lights. During “Heysatan,” the group huddled around a set of keyboards and xylophones, the only light illuminated from a few candle-like bulbs placed around the instruments that lit up as they were played. But even more striking were the images projected onto the huge screen behind the band – “Vid Spilum Endalaust” was accompanied by  what looked like glowing embers floating through the air, while black and white snatches of what seemed to be faces flitted in and out of focus like spectres during “All Alright,” one of the barest and most haunting numbers of the evening. But nothing compared to the grand finale of “Gobbledigook,” which began with four members of the opening band Parachutes joining the quartet on stage to pound away on a set of drums, amplifying the already driving beat. The song was supported by a bright, psychadelic color display, and ended with a shock as geysers of confetti exploded out of the stage and showered the entire three-thousand person audience.

            It was thanks to these magnificent displays that the disappointments of the evening were minimized. While the group demonstrated, as always, an impressive grip over their use of dynamics, rising from soothingly quiet to massive climaxes, one never felt that the group was quite as loud as they could have been. The eruption of sound on numbers such as “Saeglopur” and “Glosoli” should have left a ringing in my ears, but failed do so. I hesitate to blame this on the band, however – I have heard similar complaints about the Schnitzer before. The only other complaint was the lack of a string or brass section, both of which are instruments featured prominently on the group’s studio albums. It was a small difference, and the sound was fine without the additional layer, but it did cause a few of the numbers to lack some of the depth of the album versions.

            It was a combination of these things that actually allowed the quieter and more stripped-down songs of the evening to take the forefront. Both of the aforementioned songs “Heysatan” and “All Alright” filled the space, oddly, in a way that the louder pieces could not, and the atmosphere became warmer and more intimate. The same happened with “Meo Blodnasir,” which, featured on the album Takk, is little more than an interlude. Live, however, Birgisson encouraged the entire audience to hum along with the gentle lullaby melody. The result was a deeply serene moment and one of the highlights of the evening. But the most intense moment of the entire concert arrived in the encore, with the performance of “Papplagid.” Beginning with a simple guitar riff, the song built as Birgisson’s eagle-like cries faded in and out over a rising drum roll which eventually exploded into the loudest moment of the night, accompanied by an impossibly fast strobe light show in which every single light onstage flashed on and off in a brilliant, heart-pounding display. But it wasn’t the light show that was the most remarkable part – it was the build of the song, which acquired an edge and ferocity absent on the album recording. It was a reminder that even surrounded by terrific light displays and haunting images, Sigur Ros’s greatest strength is their music. And, oh, what breathtaking music it is.

~ Will Preston