Almost 20 years after their formation in Reykjavik in 1994, SIGUR ROS‘ current tour finds the band in something of a transitional phase. It follows the beautiful yet somewhat untourable album “Valtari” and precedes the recently announced 7th LP (provisionally known simply as “SR7”) – this of course holds the intoxicating promise of new material being played here at Manchester’s packed O2 Apollo.
The shows also come on the heels of the departure of their long-time keyboard player / multi-instrumentalist Kjartan Sveinsson last year, meaning it’s as a three-piece that the band walk on stage tonight, albeit a three-piece with eight further players, including scaled-down string and brass sections. At the reassuring sight of the army of musicians taking their places, any worries of particular songs being omitted, or of stripped-back compositions, are quickly laid to rest.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard a room hush more quickly. Hidden from view behind a gigantic white sheet, the band’s entrance is barely noticed by the majority. However, when the lights falls and the first strains of new song “Yfirbord” make their way out into the crowd, a complete silence drops.
The crowd is almost silent throughout the songs for the whole gig. Thankfully, this is out of a complete sense of respect for the music and growing awe, as the songs rise and fall and fill the room with a magnificent sense of emotion. The quiet is happily only interrupted between songs, when the rapturous applause hails the band.
Sigur Ros have always made aesthetics and the visual component of their work a priority, and tonight is no different. Performing the first 10 minutes behind the aforementioned screen, the songs are accompanied by beautiful, abstract images of natural themes which complement the music to a T. A personal highlight finds the pulsating constellation of light bulbs onstage entrancing at the beginning of slow-burner “Svefn-G-Englar” from the early album “Agaetus Byrjun.”
A career-spanning 2-hour set follows, often enhanced with new arrangements, and given new intricacies afforded by the increased headcount. The music played is utterly hypnotic in both its breadth and depth. From the plaintive cries of front man Jonsi at the conclusion of “Vaka” to the jaw-dropping “Saeglopur,” the songs build and crash with a perfect sense of movement.
Technically, the sound is unbelievable, and certainly the best I’ve heard in the Apollo. There is a clarity to the sound system that, if missing, could have had huge ramifications on the experience.
As the apocalyptic drums and bowed-guitar of “Popplagid” bring the night to a close, it’s plain to see that the crowd has been almost universally affected. Life-long memories have been created tonight, minds set alight with wonderment, and it’s all down to Iceland’s finest.