Note: Sorry for the long hiatus folks, I got VERY lazy at the end of 2005. I finished the year with a queue of roughly 20 albums that I hadn't reviewed that will all be included on my year-end list, which you will see next. First, here's the "director's cut", so to speak, of my review for the new Sigur Ros album, the abridged version of which was published in the January 2006 issue of The Lancer Spirit, of which I am the A&E editor. It's also because of this fact that reviews will not go on the blog until they are published in the newspaper. So, in short, look out for my Best, Worst, and OK List of 2005, and new reviews of The Strokes, We Are Scientists, Cat Power, and Test Icicles, among others. Here's the review! ;)
Sigur Rós-Takk…
(Geffen)
8 out of 10
Picture links to Sigur Ros' website
Unfortunately, I don’t have time for such shenanigans. Luckily for me, “Takk…” has many of these effects within the confines of its shiny plastic disc. The Icelandic landscape is characterized by the lack of direct emotional warmth within it’s arrangements compensated by involuntary yet totally sincere vulnerability not only in sound but also in the fact that unforgiving minds may label the album as utter rubbish at one listen. The visible fusion of stone and water is synonymous with the band’s immaculate melding of static, memorable melodies with wavering, soaring string sections. And with various unexpected changes in candor and mood, it’s hard not to feel blown away by the atmospheric quartet’s seminal sound.
Save for a few minute details, such as the lyrics being sung in Icelandic rather than the fictional Hopelandic or the songs actually having titles this time around, “Takk…” is not so different from the band’s previous outing, 2002’s “( )”. Both albums are vast and cinematic in attitude, both have songs that are (for the most part) wonderfully repetitive; both have the eerie falsetto vocal stylings of frontman Jónsi Birgisson, both utilize the fantastical string instrumentals of collaborators Amina, and both are simply wonderful. But Sigur Rós created “Takk…” with one new factor in mind: Some people have actually heard of them.
With a batch of new fans, mostly stemming from “( )”’s lead single, “Untitled 1 (Vaka)”, and the song’s subsequent breakthrough music video featuring the now iconic gasmask-sporting schoolchildren, the band probably realized they had to step up their game a bit and make some more “Untitled 1”s to please the new fans without abandoning the ambient post-rock roots they developed upon. And, like all truly great musicians, this is just what Sigur Rós does.
“Takk...”s foremost opus is the immaculate “Saeglópur”, a precious parade of chimes, playful creaking sounds, piano that seems to run in slow motion, and childlike vocals that transforms at the snap of a finger into a blistering, accusatory death threat, changing that very same piano into a wrathful beast, bringing kamikaze drum attacks, towering bass, and squealing strings with it. After such an unrestrained and unwarranted outcry of anger, the song begins to return to reclusion, weeping a sincere apology to the listener. It’s dramatic, and the rapidly morphing stream of emotions only becomes more and more daunting with each spin.
Also adding a notch to Sigur Rós’ belt of should-be hits is the anthemic “Glósóli”, witch rides a catchy, syrup-like bassline and what seems to be the sound of marching soldiers through a verse that slowly escalates towards the song’s climax. Channeling the band’s oft-obscured heavy metal influences, the entire ensemble dives into a thumping thrashfest which, oddly enough, becomes more graceful than the song’s seemingly quiet beginning.
“Hoppípolla”, which plays like one big four-minute chorus, achieves similar stature, but through melody rather than mood swings. The song’s twinking piano melody dances intimately with Birgisson’s saintlike howl. The climax is, once again, louder than the rest of the song, but rather than changing the mood, it joins the song in a cavalcade of open-ended praise.
It’s safe to say that the entire album is quite sufficient as ear candy, but some tracks do have drawbacks. After “Saeglópur”, the remainder of the album tends to be drawn out and plodding, “Andvari” being the most troubling. “Andvari” echoes Mazzy Star in that it strives to comfort, but Sigur Rós’ tendency to remain on the frigid side makes this fireplace a smoldering, lukewarm pile of embers that’s quite hard to cozy up to. “Mílano” and “Gong” try to duplicate the bell-curve pattern of turbulence that the album’s best songs utilize perfectly, except with more instrumental expertise being demonstrated than emotional connectivity. Such long dirges make relatively normal-sized songs like the title track and “Meo Blódnasir” feel like interludes. Fortunately, “Heysátan” ends the album on a contemplative note. For the first time, it’s purposely stoic, but with bass, piano, and horns melting together to form a nurturing sundrop of sound each few seconds, it sends a feeling of satisfaction through the listener’s mind, which should be received easily after over an hour of stream-of-consciousness mindgames that are quite fun to play.
Many people may wonder what “Takk…”’s Icelandic lyrics translate to in English, but it becomes evident after the first listen that the lyrics really don’t need to be understood at all. Sigur Rós communicate solely through the universal language of music. I did, however, look up the English translation of the album’s title. The word emblazoned on the back of this album’s rustic packaging translates to “Thank You…”. These four sullen Icelandic men read my mind perfectly.
Key Tracks: “Saeglópur”, “Glósóli”, “Hoppípolla”, “Heysátan”
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