Thursday, September 08, 2005
Live: Sigur Rós
Carolina Theater, Durham NC, 9/7/2005
This is a tough one. Unfortunately, in this case, hearing is understanding. If you’ve heard Sigur Rós, you know what I mean. For the benefit of those who have not heard them, I’ll do my best to describe it (knowing full well I’ll come up short).
Sigur Rós is a quartet of (very, obviously, surprisingly, especially considering the sophistication of their sound) young men from Iceland who make their own unique brand of post-rock, mixing classical, (I assume) Icelandic folk, and indie rock into an atmospheric swirl of music. At times, it sounds like something that might be used as a soundtrack to a Kieslowski film about forlorn Eastern European sinners. Other times, it sounds like Mogwai fronting Dead Can Dance. While I have always liked their records, this is one example of how a live performance really changed my opinion of a band for the better. No doubt about it, Sigur Rós is a very good band.
The evening started well. We arrived at the Carolina Theater (a rather upscale joint usually used mostly for plays and musicals and whatnot) and were shown to our seats, which were in the front row, stage right. Normally, these would be very good seats for a show like this – comfy, close, etc. Unfortunately, Sigur Rós brought with them all the way from Iceland an especially large amp stack that they erected right in front of my seat, obscuring my view of about a third of the stage. Our friend, Craig, decided to have a discussion with management about the obscured view and – get this – they actually offered to do something about it! Seems the Carolina Theater never had a band perform there that brought with them so much equipment – our seats weren’t obstructed for most performances. So, they stuck some extra seats in the orchestra pit right in front of the stage for us. How’s that for service?
The opening act, Amina, consisted of four painfully young looking Icelandic women all dressed in odd dresses that looked like ill-fitting faerie costumes from an early-80s high school production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream – festooned with strips of teals and purples and browns, wearing sheer blue-green stockings. For 30 minutes or so, they mostly stood around on stage and very determinedly played a vibraphone, cello, some wine glasses, something on an iMac, and even a carpenter’s saw. It was an ambient and slightly sleepy mix that recalled Four Tet as much as anything else. Strangely, by the time the set ended, they had won me over. I went out to the lobby and bought a copy of their palindromic 4-song EP, AminaminA (the contents of which, it turns out, made up their entire set).
A muslin screen dropped in front of the stage during the intermission, and roadies could be seen (sort of) scurrying about prepping the stage for Sigur Rós. The lights dimmed after 15 minutes or so, and the band began to play. But the curtain didn’t go up, at least not initially. The drummer and the bassist were backlit, so you could see their silhouettes projected on the muslin. Singer Jónsi’s eerie wail built in intensity along with the song, which began to sound more like Slint (which I saw in Chicago this spring) than Sigur Rós, but the lighting arrangement and the screen prevented the audience from seeing him. Eventually, the intensity of the sound cascaded and the backlighting increased in intensity. The song ended and the curtain was raised. It was a dramatic and fitting way to kick start the 90-minute performance that ensued.
Now that I have seen Sigur Rós live, I finally understand the critics who compare them to Radiohead. Like Radiohead, the songs are built on strong bass lines and occasionally discomforting atmospherics. And Jónsi performs with much of the same kind of intensity that Thom Yorke does (but without the physical flailing, save for some rather intense-looking hand wrenching when he tries to hit a particularly difficult note). He even has a funny-looking eye, just like Yorke (though Jónsi is actually blind in that eye). Radiohead have a stronger affinity for pop hooks, though, and Sigur Rós leans more heavily on ambience for its sound (is it any wonder, then, that Amina got its start as the string quartet backing Sigur Rós? Their dreamy string arrangements mesh perfectly with Jónsi’s ethereal voice).
My concerns that Jónsi couldn’t possibly hit those notes consistently in a live performance were allayed. He sounded amazing throughout, although it was terribly obvious he was getting a little help from some rather elaborate processors at the soundboard.
The show ended as it began – with the band playing behind a muslin screen, an out-of-focus, slow motion monochromatic film of birds on a telephone line projected upon it. The curtain was raised one last time to accommodate a group bow to the audience, the beaming musicians clapping gratefully back at the appreciative audience. It was the first tacit acknowledgement of the audience the entire evening, but it seemed like it came at the perfect time: at the end of a terrific performance for an adoring crowd.
Bliss.
This is a tough one. Unfortunately, in this case, hearing is understanding. If you’ve heard Sigur Rós, you know what I mean. For the benefit of those who have not heard them, I’ll do my best to describe it (knowing full well I’ll come up short).
Sigur Rós is a quartet of (very, obviously, surprisingly, especially considering the sophistication of their sound) young men from Iceland who make their own unique brand of post-rock, mixing classical, (I assume) Icelandic folk, and indie rock into an atmospheric swirl of music. At times, it sounds like something that might be used as a soundtrack to a Kieslowski film about forlorn Eastern European sinners. Other times, it sounds like Mogwai fronting Dead Can Dance. While I have always liked their records, this is one example of how a live performance really changed my opinion of a band for the better. No doubt about it, Sigur Rós is a very good band.
The evening started well. We arrived at the Carolina Theater (a rather upscale joint usually used mostly for plays and musicals and whatnot) and were shown to our seats, which were in the front row, stage right. Normally, these would be very good seats for a show like this – comfy, close, etc. Unfortunately, Sigur Rós brought with them all the way from Iceland an especially large amp stack that they erected right in front of my seat, obscuring my view of about a third of the stage. Our friend, Craig, decided to have a discussion with management about the obscured view and – get this – they actually offered to do something about it! Seems the Carolina Theater never had a band perform there that brought with them so much equipment – our seats weren’t obstructed for most performances. So, they stuck some extra seats in the orchestra pit right in front of the stage for us. How’s that for service?
The opening act, Amina, consisted of four painfully young looking Icelandic women all dressed in odd dresses that looked like ill-fitting faerie costumes from an early-80s high school production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream – festooned with strips of teals and purples and browns, wearing sheer blue-green stockings. For 30 minutes or so, they mostly stood around on stage and very determinedly played a vibraphone, cello, some wine glasses, something on an iMac, and even a carpenter’s saw. It was an ambient and slightly sleepy mix that recalled Four Tet as much as anything else. Strangely, by the time the set ended, they had won me over. I went out to the lobby and bought a copy of their palindromic 4-song EP, AminaminA (the contents of which, it turns out, made up their entire set).
A muslin screen dropped in front of the stage during the intermission, and roadies could be seen (sort of) scurrying about prepping the stage for Sigur Rós. The lights dimmed after 15 minutes or so, and the band began to play. But the curtain didn’t go up, at least not initially. The drummer and the bassist were backlit, so you could see their silhouettes projected on the muslin. Singer Jónsi’s eerie wail built in intensity along with the song, which began to sound more like Slint (which I saw in Chicago this spring) than Sigur Rós, but the lighting arrangement and the screen prevented the audience from seeing him. Eventually, the intensity of the sound cascaded and the backlighting increased in intensity. The song ended and the curtain was raised. It was a dramatic and fitting way to kick start the 90-minute performance that ensued.
Now that I have seen Sigur Rós live, I finally understand the critics who compare them to Radiohead. Like Radiohead, the songs are built on strong bass lines and occasionally discomforting atmospherics. And Jónsi performs with much of the same kind of intensity that Thom Yorke does (but without the physical flailing, save for some rather intense-looking hand wrenching when he tries to hit a particularly difficult note). He even has a funny-looking eye, just like Yorke (though Jónsi is actually blind in that eye). Radiohead have a stronger affinity for pop hooks, though, and Sigur Rós leans more heavily on ambience for its sound (is it any wonder, then, that Amina got its start as the string quartet backing Sigur Rós? Their dreamy string arrangements mesh perfectly with Jónsi’s ethereal voice).
My concerns that Jónsi couldn’t possibly hit those notes consistently in a live performance were allayed. He sounded amazing throughout, although it was terribly obvious he was getting a little help from some rather elaborate processors at the soundboard.
The show ended as it began – with the band playing behind a muslin screen, an out-of-focus, slow motion monochromatic film of birds on a telephone line projected upon it. The curtain was raised one last time to accommodate a group bow to the audience, the beaming musicians clapping gratefully back at the appreciative audience. It was the first tacit acknowledgement of the audience the entire evening, but it seemed like it came at the perfect time: at the end of a terrific performance for an adoring crowd.
Bliss.
posted by Bill Purdy, 2:24 PM
4 Buffaloes were bitter enough to post comments:
OK, you 2; I'll listen! Sheesh!
Sounds like I'll have to check them out!
how big of a theater is that--like how big of a crowd can they draw? was it sold out?
and how is their crowd interaction? do they have any? i love their music, but i can't imagine it live for some reason. it almost seems perfectly suited for chilling on headphones.
and how is their crowd interaction? do they have any? i love their music, but i can't imagine it live for some reason. it almost seems perfectly suited for chilling on headphones.
Sold out, about a week after tix went on sale. I estimated the place holds about 1,000 people, later learned it holds 1,016 (though, as you read in my post, some of those seats were obstructed view).
The band did not interact with the crowd at all during the course of the show, which really plays out like a bit of a performance piece. I was disappointed when reading this week's PFM review of the NY show, that they vary their sets and elected not to play "Svefn-g-Englar" in Durham. Oh well. What they did play was spectacular.
Playing in a plush-seated theater typically used for plays and less pop-oriented music made the experience as much like chilling out with headphones on as you can get in a live performance. Of course, we were moved to less-comfortable folding chairs in the pit, but the trade-off was an unparallelled view of the stage.
Oh, and Takk, the new SR CD, is terrific.
The band did not interact with the crowd at all during the course of the show, which really plays out like a bit of a performance piece. I was disappointed when reading this week's PFM review of the NY show, that they vary their sets and elected not to play "Svefn-g-Englar" in Durham. Oh well. What they did play was spectacular.
Playing in a plush-seated theater typically used for plays and less pop-oriented music made the experience as much like chilling out with headphones on as you can get in a live performance. Of course, we were moved to less-comfortable folding chairs in the pit, but the trade-off was an unparallelled view of the stage.
Oh, and Takk, the new SR CD, is terrific.