vintage

Some of you might be aware that I recently started a totally awesome job: usher at the venerable Massey Hall. It means that I get to see some pretty sweet stuff while getting paid. Last night was my first show, and it happened to be Sigur Rós.

I know. Pretty awesome, right.

Parachutes provided the warm-up, which was short and sweet. I was surprised to learn that they were from Iceland as well, although in retrospect, I have no idea why. It kind of makes sense. Anyway, Parachutes’ eight members made some beautiful music in that beautiful hall, and their trombonist knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Kudos to the single horn player. I enjoyed their set, but at quite a few points it sounded like they were trying too hard to be another Sigur Rós, which just won’t do. If they stuck to their own sound – which peeked through a fair amount – it would be just lovely.

After an intermission, to deafening applause and cheers: Sigur Rós, direct from Reykjavík (via some North American cities on the tour). I’ll admit I wasn’t sure what to expect here. I’ve heard two of their songs (“Svefn-g-englar” and “Hoppípolla,” neither of which I would recognize if I heard them again) and didn’t really like them, although my tastes were incredibly different at the time. However, this show was a pleasant surprise.

Lead vocalist Jónsi Birgisson’s voice is something else. He has a beautiful falsetto which stretches to heights usually unattainable for those of the male persuasion. Coupled with his frenzied bowing (that’s “playing with a bow”) on guitar, he makes for a pretty fascinating performer. Add that to the incredible sounds coming from the rest of the players – I particularly enjoyed the drumming – and you have a great, great live act.

The thing about Sigur Rós is that they clearly play from the heart. It’s hard not to be drawn into the power they are channeling into their music, and seeing them in a venue like Massey Hall – beautiful, strong and fascinating – is the perfect touch. I have to say, too, that my opinion of their music is quite a lot different now; perhaps I just wasn’t ready for post-rock at the time, but I really enjoyed it. Icelandic is a very interesting-sounding language, and their songs were very haunting – they filled the whole hall with their surreal and beautiful sounds.

The final song of their encore involved some giant drums, played by what looked like a few lucky audience members, and a huge, joyful, soaring burst of coloured confetti. There are few moments more blissful than that, and I am certainly glad to have witnessed it. Time to search out some albums, I guess!

I think the next show I am working is Alanis Morrissette. Uh. Change of pace!