Sigur Ros
Med Sud i Eyrum vid Spilum Endalaust

Release Date: 2008 | Tracklist

When Sigur Ros first skimmed their delicately crafted stones ‘Von’ and ‘Agaetis Byrjun’ out into the instrumental ocean, the resulting ripple shocked their creators, and the world around them. Sat on the shore in disbelief, they watched as that ripple gathered enough energy to become a wave of tidal proportions. Naturally, they have ridden that wave to incredible critical and commercial success, steamrolling their way through the BBC to be featured in almost every one of its wildlife documentaries and sports coverage’s, and have done an admirable job of bridging the gap between instrumental and popular music. Credit where credit’s due, they’ve definitely made a difference in today’s music scene, provided inspiration for many uprising acts, and are arguably one of ‘the’ bands of our generation. But ever since climbing onto the crest of their wave, they have found it increasingly difficult to maintain their balance. It was not so obvious back then, but with every passing record it becomes more noticeable. 'Með Suð Ã* Eyrum Við Spilum Endalaust' seems to indicate that it can’t be too much longer before they’re hurtled headfirst into the sand, if this record hasn’t sent that wave crashing already.

The opener, ‘Gobledigook’, is odd; I don’t quite know what to make of it. The pounding drums and handclaps make sure the record is noticed, but the banal ‘la-la-la’s enter and it’s a case of slightly new versus déja vu. As desperate as they are to reinvent themselves, it's not happening, and it’s awkward to listen to them try. At least it appears they want to reinvent themselves, until the rest of the record comes and plants you firmly back in Sigur Ros land. Don’t worry, it’s all here. The initial slow passages followed by slow, sweeping journeys into the increasingly uplifting and inspirational instrumentals (trumpets and/or violins basically, with harder-bashed drums), accompanied by those Icelandic vocals that have now passed through the depiction of ‘moving’ and are content to swim in a sea of soppy sentimentality. Yep, it’s all here on… well, almost every song. And that’s the issue now; there is so little variation to their once (and probably still) respected sound that it is, sadly, becoming a gimmick. What was once a warming, touching, experimental, contemplative and ultimately fresh sound in ‘Agaetis’, has now been drugged up, exhausted, and stretched so thin that its become an over-romantic, gratuitously dramatic, tedious pile of slush that never even threatens to challenge the expectations of the listener.

Focusing simply on the record as a whole, regardless of its roots and influences, the album still falls short on a number of levels. The unwillingness to experiment with any other emotions besides ‘blossoming hope’ and ‘silver-lining sorrow’ leaves it sounding almost mechanical, and when they are so clearly striving for a purely organic sound it creates an awkward juxtaposition in its insincerity. While the lack of emotive variance may have taken away a sense of connection with the record, the scarcity of any structural or instrumental variation violently snatches away whatever fun and volatility the album could have been holding back and, as a result, leaves it stale, lifeless, and, quite simply, boring. Almost every song is structured the same, quiet beginning, gradual increase in volume and intensity, exalted, overzealous crescendo. Not a single song started intense and fell into a hushed, slow section. And the instruments, while more varied than other bands, rarely vary in what they are intended to resonate in the listener. Horns supply the happiness (with the exception on All Alright), violins provide the grief, and the piano is used as a go-between of the only two emotions present on the album. All these issues, for me, sentenced this record to a very long shelf life, destined to gather dust at the back of my collection. But the importance of the rest of their catalogue cannot be ignored as it is a major contributing factor to the production of this record, and the fact they have collected all the elements on this album from previous albums makes them all the more lazy and deserving of criticism.

I will be honest; some of this record is quite moving, almost wonderful. As predictable and perfunctory as it is, the ending of ‘�ra bátur’ is something quite special, and surprisingly is quite reserved and constrained in it’s explosion, allowing for a more tender Sigur Ros to seep through. Unfortunately, the song itself is far too long and you may aswell only listen to the last three and a half minutes, everything before it just goes back on itself. Personally, I think that's boring, especially when what's being repeated is just a trite, lifeless piano melody. ‘Góðan daginn’ slightly strays from the beaten old track, opting for the road less travelled, not reliant on a building crescendo but rather floating, weightless drums and a sparing use of violin and xylophone which ease the listener along the Sigur Ros wave on their back. Fortunately for them, the road less travelled lies parallel and right next to one with the prosaic path stamped right in, so they can easily tiptoe back into it with ‘Við spilum endalaust’ – the typical ‘inspiring’ brass sections jumping ecstatically against a solid but unimaginative drum line and self-aggrandizing vocals, all building upto an indistinctive climax which is intended to make the listener ejaculate a warm gush of blissful tears, so satisfying that it beats sex. It didn’t quite do that for me. ‘Illgresi’ doesn’t quite go for the tried-and-tested route, but does still manage to bore with an unmotivated acoustic guitar accompanying Jónsi Birgisson's falsetto squeals which heave and shove but never quite move anything. Somewhere along the road, and I don’t know how or when, but somewhere that voice lost a great amount of its power.

Bottom line: this is an overly safe, utterly predictable, and ultimately poor effort. Thanks to its lack of imagination, risk, and variation, the type of music which once had my eyes swelling with tears now leaves them rolling in frustration and embarrassment. There’s so little here that has me wanting to go back and listen again, it actually becomes draining in its lethargy and platitude. I’m not asking Sigur Ros to give it up, there are a few magical moments on this record which have me clinging to the hope that they can resurrect themselves and become the Sigur Ros I once loved. And no, I’m not asking either that they go back and do what they did with ‘Agaetis’, I’m not looking for a clone, and they seem mighty intent anyway on sticking with what they know anyway. What I’m asking is that they do have a close look at their roots, the roots which started that unusual ripple in the first place, and understand again what made them great. Once they have that foundation under their wave again, they can stand a lot steadier on that crest and begin to take a few more risks without worrying about their balancing act. Hopefully they haven’t quite yet fallen, but 'Með Suð Ã* Eyrum Við Spilum Endalaust' hasn’t given me much reason to believe they haven’t washed up among the old replica rocks already.

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3.7 great

Rank: #49 for 2008