Review Summary: With a buzz in our ear we play endlessly.
( ), an album that performed in water colors, still remains Sigur Ros’ defining statement. One could build a lot of pretense against the album, but there’s no doubt that those who adored it had good reason: it had flow, charm, and if you will, surprises. If Sigur Ros’ breakthrough
Agaetis Byrjun doesn’t hold the same distinction, it’s simply a matter of taste for textures. But after the release of the still rather excellent
Hvarf/Heim last year, a compilation of rarities and acoustic numbers, Sigur Ros as a whole seemed to be at a standstill. There are only so many ways you can hear Jón Birgisson croon wordlessly over a climax before you skip onto the next batch of chords. Maybe that’s why the release of “Gobbledigook” shook with such force; when you forget to expect the unexpected, your mind gets f
ucking blown. As far as tracks go, “Gobbledigook” is simple, but that’s why it is so effective. Like Animal Collective crossed Iceland and lived to sing about it, “Gobbledigook” treats its acoustic folk with a good helping of tribal beats, but the secret is in the vocals: wispy, chaotic and full of joy, all at the hands of a language so alien to our own. For weeks this was our only taste, and it slowly started to buckle under the weight of its increasing expectation.
That’s the devilish joke here, then, putting “Gobbledigook” upfront as the album's opener. It’s not a song that we can look forward to if we find ourselves restless with the rest of the album, or a single that can break-up monotonous filler. “Gobbledigook” is simply a new sound we’re finally used to, one that Sigur Ros daringly throw away as a crutch. By the time “Inn* mér syngur vitleysingur” rolls in, it feels like the
með suð * eyrum við spilum endalaust’s true opener, and what a grand opener it is: a funky piano line, handclaps, Jonsi Birgisson’s almost painfully gleeful bellowing, all thrown in to create Sigur Ros’ pop masterpiece. At a just-perfect four minute running time, “Inn* mér syngur vitleysingur” is pretty spectacular on those first few listens, as is the whole of
Endalaust. The beauty to “Góoan daginn” is constructing the powerful songwriting around the bare strumming of the acoustic guitar; for the album centerpiece “Festival,” it’s hanging every facet on Birgisson’s icy croons over lonely strings before building into the grand orchestration of its finale. No moment on the album quite matches the pounding build up of snares into the full band theatrics, trumpets and all.
And that’s the problem right there, really. You come to expect moments like these, and where an excellent album makes you enjoy the wait, feel the tension of the moments toppling over each other to get to some grand finale,
Endalaust deflates like a balloon because of it. That’s not for lack of technique, because
Endalaust is still another crowning achievement for a band that is nothing short of spectacular. But I begin to listen to songs like “Suo * eyrum,” a piano ballad struck with an irregular drumbeat, for elements, not its whole (even though the song’s warped outro is, well, awesome). Even with its inspired pacing (to quote a good friend, it has a gradual “birth to death” cycle),
Endalaust stops short of fantastic because you can feel the progression for Sigur Ros brewing under the foundation, but its best tracks just add onto the tried-and-true Sigur Ros formula, and “Ára bátur” is all pianos and climaxes and hymns.
But like I said before, those that end up adoring
Endalaust certainly have good reason. “Fljótav*k” is another graceful piano number that begins the album on its slow, elegant descent into its finale, the ambient drone of “All Alright” that, rather fittingly, extends its running time simply to drone, not to fascinate us by its tremendous climax. If you stop to think about it, Sigur Ros did exactly what they should have done. Too many gobbledigooks would have been a disaster, and simply forgetting
Takk existed would have made the album feel cheap. So
með suð * eyrum við spilum endalaust is just another Sigur Ros album, but if I can be the first to say it, our “first vital band of the 21st century” is starting to feel old hat.
