There's an old adage that goes, "Talking about music is like dancing about architecture." It always feels especially apt when I (or others) attempt to describe, decipher, explain or critique the truly otherworldly music of Sigur Rós. Up until their last album, 2008's frustratingly un-ethereal Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust, music critics (mere mortals, most of us) could only shrug and toss out tired labels like "lush," "cinematic," "majestic," and (my favorite) "rapturously [insert adjective here]." The Icelandic post-rock collective's latest album Valtari (out May 29 via XL Records) is all of those things—more so, in fact, than any of their records have sounded since ( ) in 2002.
Falsely promised to be a more "electronic" outing, Valtari is instead a welcome retread into the warm blanket familiarity of their first two records—glacial, expansive dirges (many pushing the 6-8 minute mark) brim-filled with organic rhythms, shapeless E-Bow guitar textures, cinematic orchestral flourishes and (of course) the free-form, elegantly baffling vocal wails of Jónsi, whose electro-pop solo fare couldn't be less a frame of reference here. Opening with the holistic chantings of a gothic choir, "Ég Anda" assures that, yes, we're in familiar Sigur Rós territory—its stirring, billowing sound layers drop suddenly into a percussive electric guitar breakdown that builds back up again into a dramatic, rattling crescendo.
As expected, the album works best as a seamless whole, segueing gracefully from the warm hum and airy atmospherics of "Ekki Múkk" into the stark, almost underwater piano intro of "Varúð," an impressionistic tour de force that eventually explodes in a cacophonous flare-up of distorted drums, guitar feedback and an angelic children's choir. The album's sparser, more meditative second half begins with "Rembihnútur," a humming, throbbing dash of gently shrieking violins and cascading white noise. "Dauðalogn" reaches Tree Of Life levels of symphonic grandeur, while the stagnantly moody "Varðeldur" and "Valtari" lack all apparent forms of momentum… instead, they seem to almost float aimlessly in space, building layer after layer, minute after minute on top of themselves.
We close with the serene sprawl of "Fjögur Píanó" (Icelandic for "Four Pianos"… mild spoiler alert) and the sensation that, though it doesn't depart drastically from the band's well-established old formula, Valtari is nevertheless breathtaking in its singular beauty, epic scale and antithetical approach to post-rock or electric classical or whatever genre of music they managed to invent with Ágætis Byrjun. Any attempt to further contextualize, analyze, or etcetera-ize it is more of an architectural two-step than I'm equipped to perform. Suffice to say, you know Sigur Rós… you know what they do… and you know how it makes you feel when they're at their best. Valtari is definitely Sigur Rós at their best-- (re)act accordingly.
SumOlogy: Prepare to fall in love with Sigur Rós all over again—Valtari is their most majestic, striking, and beautiful work in ages.
Grade: A
For more news, reviews, videos and tunes from your favorite bands/artists, make sure to join our Music and Indie Rock Ologies.
Follow Brett Warner on Twitter: @Erasurehead
Comments (0)
Be the first to comment!