Ágætis byrjun

Sigur Rós

Post-rock is certainly not for everyone, it can be quite patience testing. Lengthy numbers that often meditate on one particular idea and slowly build over time. I will admit, it took me awhile to come around to the genre. Sigur Rós was no exception, although, there was something about them that set them apart from other bands in the genre. I don't remember the time, or the place, or what I was doing, but the band finally clicked with me. I learned to slow things down, live in the moment, stop to appreciate the journey instead of anxiously trying to get to my destination. That's not to say that all post-rock bands make compelling music once you 'get it.' However Sigur Rós, on this record especially, hit on something very remarkable thanks to the über talented musician and composer Kjartan Sveinsson (who debuted with the band on this album). His multi-instrument talents brought so many different flavours to the band's music and his compositions gave a great sense of movement. Then of course we have Jónsi, who's alien croon and distinct style of bowed guitar felt game changing. The metallic drones he created completely enveloped you, and even during the points where the guitar would unpredictably release a sour high-pitched tone, it didn't sound grating; instead curious, like a whale's call (that comparison has no doubt been made before). To the band, this record was a new beginning, a good beginning (a translation of the album's title), and that sense of hope, aspiration, and living a dream the band might have felt resonates deeply within me as I listen to it.

After a brief intro in which a snippet of Ágætis byrjun is reversed and looped, everything fades away save for a low rumble and an echoed pulse. A beacon. We then smoothly transition into the first real opener, Svefn-g-englar which begins with such warm and inviting sounds. We have a soft organ with a shallow tremolo and some very nice bass guitar that is so compressed that its volume never waivers. The drums when they enter are softly brushed and we also have Jónsi's signature bowed guitar, sounding off like low flying airplanes. In the repeated vocal sections, the melodies are wistful, especially when the drums and bass duck out for a moment. There are very distant, reverbed vocal wails that fill the space in between the main vocal line that gives this floating sensation. We come back down though at the song's climax; drums are more forceful, the tone is a little more mournful, and Jónsi briefly switches to a more full-bodied chest voice. Not only do I think this song is the band's best, but I honestly think it is one of the greatest songs of all time.

The track that follows, Starálfur, goes for a much different vibe. It is much more grand with lush layers of strings and a quick piano arpeggio. This track feels like a dream, larger than life, that is until everything fades away for Jónsi's vocal and unplugged electric guitar. A modest sound that more closely resembles real life. Although, the dream returns much more vivid than the last with these distant explosive percussion sounds that pop off like fireworks. If we fast-forward to Viðrar vel til loftárása, we find a very cinematic voyage presented in three parts. The main melodic idea is slowly introduced with a piano that fades in. The serene melody is briefly interrupted by a moment of suspense before the serenity returns with strings, some light percussion, and some slide guitar. As the song progresses with some reverbed vocals, it continues to keep this calm and tranquil air about it. Towards the end though, the flood gates open as Jónsi, once again, returns with this monstrous guitar drone, creating another satisfying climax to the song. I also love how the strings are randomly sped up at the very end, pitching up and creating a final moment that is quite jarring. I remember the first time I listened to this record, passively as I worked around my childhood home. I remember those strings going out of tune and my attention was immediately grabbed.

Olsen Olsen is perhaps the most whimsical spot on the record. Propelled by a steady bass line and drum beat, Jónsi gently bows his guitar while singing sweet nothings from what feels like a mile away. And I should emphasize 'nothing' as the lyrics are essentially gibberish, a repeated set of syllables that I find myself imprinting my own meaning onto. Whatever you need to hear on any given day, this song can say it. The album finishes with the title track (if we're not counting the triumphant, but cavernous ambient closer Avalon), the most direct and intimate offering the band presents. We have more acoustic instrumentation, virtually no reverb aside from a few spacey sounds towards the end, and despite the lack of atmosphere, it is still the most peaceful moment on the record; which is great considering how much of an emotional rollercoaster this record is. It's also nice to hear Jónsi's voice without much processing. He comes off on this record otherworldly, someone speaking to us from another realm, but here he has manifested into the real world. And the melodies are beautiful to boot.

I absolutely love this record. It has become one of my most cherished albums in my adult life as it reflects some of the turbulent times I experience, and simultaneously reminds me that things will always resolve itself; balance will be restored. Ágætis byrjun is exciting thanks to its sweeping soundscapes and it is also meditative because of the band's use of atmosphere and repetition. While I know that certain records I moon over are definitely not for everyone, in the case of this one, I think I can say confidently that it is one of the most spectacular albums and that everyone can (almost) universally agree. This is simply just essential listening.