Sigur Rós

A full 24 hours later and I still have xylophones; pianos; violins; French horns; feedback and quite possibly the most hauntingly beautiful falsetto I’ve ever heard live swirling around inside my head on repeat. I strongly suspect that I am not the only person in the London area to be feeling this way today.

Sigur Rós are no ordinary band by any means, and their live shows are well known for being a ‘bit special’. This performance will only have added to that reputation.

Opening with the first song and title track to Takk, the shimmering effects and slow, sweeping strings are given time to work their way into every nook and cranny of the cavernous old theatre before giving way to the foundation-quaking bass and slow marching beat of Glósóli. When Jónsi begins to sing, a tangible shiver runs through the spine of the audience, and millions of neck-hairs stand on end. The crescendo to Glósóli, when it comes, is as loud and distorted and dark and beautiful as it can possibly be.

The band doesn’t say much, nor do they move around during songs much either, but there’s still plenty to keep the eyes busy. For the first few songs a silk curtain hangs in front of the stage onto which the band’s silhouettes are illuminated. The twenty-foot-high shadow of Jónsi attacking his guitar with a cello bow to create the band’s signature low-frequency resonance makes a striking image. He looks delicate enough to be blown away by the wind, yet has such a powerful voice it penetrates even the coldest heart in the room.

Flanked by a string quartet – longstanding Sigur Rós contributors, Amiina – and a horn sextet, the band is able to reproduce the intricacies of their studio albums with astounding ease. The only real difference is that it’s much, much louder – so much so, you can actually feel it pass through you. There’s quite a lot of instrument hopping in between songs too, as drummer Orri takes a turn on the keyboards, bassist Goggi swaps his strings for xylophone sticks and keyboardist Kjarri picks up a flute or guitar at various points of the set.

Combining songs from previous albums with the lion’s share of Takk, there are numerous highlights. My personal favourite comes during the achingly beautiful Sé Lest. The song is made all the more profound by a bank of twinkling stars projected onto a screen behind the stage. They seem to echo the rhythmic plink-plonk of the xylophone and slowly grow in stature and intensity as the song builds, before the breakdown at the end where a horn section parades across the front of the stage in vintage military redcoats like some brief interlude from another dimension.

It’s an all-too-short two hours (!) before the band is all played out and the evening is over. For the final song the silk screen descends in front of the stage once again as images and silhouettes flash faster than the eye can manage for the final gut-wrenching, head-exploding finale.

When the band return to the stage en masse to take one last bow there’s lengthy and heartfelt applause for what was, without doubt, a humbling and awesome performance.

FUTURE GIGS