October 2013, Chastain Park, Atlanta, Ga.
How do you review the greatest show you ever saw? Can you even call it a review, since reviews by nature tend to be critical? Is this an homage? I’m at a loss here, because I witnessed a certain musical magic I didn’t think was possible. Walking out after the barrage, my mind returned to the same questions: There were people who missed that? How can anyone miss that?
I knew Sigur Ros at Chastain Park was going to be special, but this I could not account for. Great shows have several aspects going for them to be great: The prominence of the band, your expectations, whether you’ve seen them before, where you’re sitting, the people around you in those seats, the band playing the song you want to hear, any level of surprise. I’ve seen some pretty great shows with all of these elements — U2 in ’83, R.E.M. in ’85, The Cure in ’89, The Pixies in ’04, Jeff Mangum in ’12.
But I’ve never seen anything like this.
For almost two hours the Icelandic band’s 11 musicians played its unpronounceable songs with a precision and verve hard to describe (try as I might). Led by Jonsi Birgisson and his difficult to fathom falsetto vocal ability, Sigur Ros’ performance was like watching a 3D movie boasting perfect sound, lights and cinematography, except you didn’t need the glasses for it to leap out at you.
A columnist I read with regularity does a feature called 10 things I think I know. So this what I can glean from a special night:
- I have never heard a crowd so quiet, and it was stunning. It was evident from the outset the crowd of just under 4,000 was all in, there were no casual fans in attendance. During the opener “Yfirboro” (off the 2013 release Kveikur), you couldn’t hear a spare sound beyond the stage when the song reached down to its quietest parts. I shook out of my gaze to scan the audience, silent and staring at what was happening in front of them. This would be a common occurrence all set long.
- Aside from Jonsi’s unbelievable voice, there was nothing flashy about the performance of the other 10 on stage. Joining drums, guitar, bass and piano were a trio of horns and a trio of strings (all of who offered background vocals). Individually they were tight and clean, as a collective it was miraculous. Sigur Ros is the king of musical puzzles, playing with stray cymbals, xylophones, horns and violins to create seven-minute masterpieces.
- About that voice. I don’t know how he does it, night in and night out. Every rise sounds like a one-time thing, until he does it again, and again. There’s a moment late in the show, during a five-minute break for the drummer (who was a hard-working man in this night), where Jonsi held a note for a full minute. Past the 20-second point, the crowd was impressed. Past the 30-second point, the cheers came. Past the 40-second point, clapping turned to awe. At 50 seconds it was unbelievable. When it stopped I wasn’t sure it actually happened — BECAUSE THINGS LIKE THAT DON’T HAPPEN.
- There was never a letdown, where you thought “OK, I can escape for a few minutes and not miss anything.” As much as I love The Cure, Robert Smith will throw in a self-indulgent song, which gives the crowd a chance to get a beer or take a leak (Smith’s version of “100 Years” during the last show I saw took almost as long to play). No such thing on this night. Missing a song meant missing a moment.
- How does Jonsi bow the guitar with such fervent rigor, when it looks like all he’s doing is banging the crap out of the guitar, and it comes out sounding exact? Of the 11 on stage, only Jonsi is the one who exalts in the moment, flailing and careening around in a mad fit. And yet, amidst the madness, is a perfect bow, which while he sings he holds aloft aside his cheek. Jimmy Page could wield the bow, Jonsi gives him a run for his money.
- The light show, alongside the images shown on the screen behind the stage, was remarkable. A best example happened during “Varuo” (from Valtari), when the screen showed a hillside scene which slowly revealed smaller figures flashing lights toward the stage. Each light on the screen would spur the random light bulbs on stage to flicker to life. The song, which translates to Caution, is another slow build to absolute delight. As the song came to its denouement, the flashlights on screen became lights flying up into the sky. I’ve seen bands use background images, but not with this depth of meaning.
- I’m not sure I’d be as enthralled if it wasn’t for my seats (though I’m sure I’d be still amazed by it all). Sitting in the box seats, perhaps seven rows back and elevated from the floor seats, made all the difference. You’re never really sure if being up close matters in shows, if seeing the show is meaningful. But it proved as exciting as the music was. There was the added advantage of being close enough to hear the mix from the speakers and the actual sounds off the stage, which blended for a mesmerizing milieu.
- The guy wearing the red shirt with the Georgia logo with tickets in row 20 is a dick. While everyone — and I mean everyone — was sitting this guy chose to stand, the lone prick in a sea of people. He argued with a host of people behind him, upsetting the start of “Vaka” (or Song No. 1 from ( ) as I call it). Sure, you have every right to stand, just understand this makes you a horrible person. Be happy Jonsi implored us all to stand later in the show, he might have saved your life.
- There was no encore, and you know what, I’m fine with that. This happened with Explosions in the Sky, the band ended on such a high note there was no way it could follow itself. Bands who have that song, the one that sets everything ablaze — once it’s done there’s nothing more to say. Sigur Ros has “Popplagio” (otherwise known as No. 8), a song about as perfect as they come. The slow start, with the simple guitar arrangement, slowly builds anticipation with a steady drum and Jonsi’s crooning. When the song finally explodes at the 10-minute mark — like the spilling of a levee — a cascade of powerful sound floods off the stage. I couldn’t stop laughing (or was it crying) at what was going on. It was unfair because it was all too beautiful.
- Instead of the encore, the band came out and took a bow. with the word Takk displayed in the background. It was a fitting moment and wholly genuine, but it is I who should Takk you, Sigur Ros. As Morrissey once said, “You gave me something that I won’t forget too soon.”
