Sigur Ros | 10.01.13

The band artfully incorporates visual cues and lighting techniques to not only communicate their broad emotional concepts but successfully envelop the audience.

 

Fabulous Fox Theater, St. Louis

Sigur Rós — Reykjavik, Iceland’s proudest musical export — brought their ethereal art rock back to St. Louis’ Fabulous Fox Theater. In many ways, it was the perfect venue to see the band; their atmospheric pieces seemed to find a perfect aesthetic partner under the Fox’s arched ceilings and ornate plasterwork. Describing Sigur Rós’ repertoire as pieces may seem odd, but calling them songs doesn’t quite cut it in describing their intricate, almost symphonic material.

On albums, the music of Sigur Rós seems tailor made for the iPod generation — music for navigating the city, ear-buds firmly in place, allowing the listener to easily escape the noise of an increasingly small and fragmented world. In the live arena, the band artfully incorporates visual cues and lighting techniques to not only communicate their broad emotional concepts but successfully envelop the audience.

For the most part, the audience played willing participant, letting the music wash over them from the opening strains of “Yfirborð” off of the band’s seventh and latest disc, Kveikur. Lead vocalist Jónsi Birgisson, wearing a black and red jacket with tassels hanging from the arms, captivated throughout, leading the charge with his bowed guitar technique and angelic falsetto. The first time he spoke to the crowd, about quarter through their set, was almost jarring. When he uttered “hello, and thank you for coming to see us” in his thick Icelandic accent, the effect was that of a friendly alien finally deigning to speak to the Earthlings. Probably my favorite moment of the evening came during his solo performance of “Festival,” during which he held a note for almost an entire minute, in a dead-silent Fox Theater. Finishing the note and making a gasp for air, the crowd burst into applause.

Percussionist Orri Páll Dýrason and bassist Georg Hólm shone throughout the night, particularly on “Með Blóðnasir” and the epic set-ender “Popplagið.” The three main members were flanked by three string players and three brass players, with an additional guitarist and keyboardist, all contributing to vocals, all adding to the wall of sound. As a post-rock-concert, the crowd remained seated for the most part, letting the music happen to them and around them. A large video screen behind the band displayed abstract images like stars, smiling children, ghostly human shapes drifting to and from the sky, and a landscape full of people holding lanterns in the foggy distance. Just like the band’s lyrics, which mostly consist of a made-up language called Hopelandic, they were open to interpretation, letting the audience graft their own meanings to the work.  

The band earned a standing ovation at the end of the night, and even came back out when the house lights came on for an additional round of bows. Judging by the joyous faces of the artists, the evening meant as much to them as it did to their fans.

Opening the show was Juliana Barwick, whose minimalist Eno-esque styling perfectly laid the groundwork for the evening to come. | Jim Ousley

Photos: C. Daniel 

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