I recall the leggy blonde coach briefly courted by Gordon Bombay in “D2: The Mighty Ducks” coyly explaining to a fawning Emilio Estevez: “No, Greenland is covered in ice; Iceland is very nice.” The Nice Nordics. That’s who Sigur Rós are. Only an environment of lush, cold splendor and dramatic annual shifts in the length of visible sunlight could produce a group with such a uniquely eerie, mystifying, absolutely gorgeous sound.
Formed in 1994, in Reykjavik, around lead singer Jónsi Birgisson (and named after his baby sister), Sigur Rós are now six albums deep and growing steadily in popularity. Unlike many foreign groups who aspire to make it big on the international stage, they haven’t converted their music, song or album titles to English, making them the most popular group to do so since Ritchie Valens and “La Bamba.”
In fact, their lyrics aren’t even intelligible to their countrymen. Jónsi and his crew sing in “Volenska,” or “Hopelandic,” a language of gibberish that lacks the typical subject-verb structure you and I are used to communicating with. What?! Basically, it’s the next thing up from just repeating the syllable “La.” Vocal formations that jive with the music and have little to no meaning – voice as instrument only. It must be fun to invent your own language and get away with it. I’m going with #highconcept on that one.
To be honest, it’s not easy finding a Rós track to “jam” with. They generate broad, sweeping electro-soundscapes that glimmer with Birgisson’s piercing falsetto and rise and fall by the strokes of his characteristic string bow over guitar strings. It’s a lot of mellow, moody stuff, and Birgisson can get a little whiny-wimpery at times. But there’s beautiful depth there, the kind you can close your eyes and dream to: Imagine epic adventures with mythological beasts romping around the expansive northern landscape. Yes, that sounds nice.
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