Lighter Sigur Rós still shimmers

Mike Newmark Assistant Arts Editor

Sometimes, music can be reflective of its place of origin. I’ve never been to Iceland, but judging by such whimsical Icelandic bands as Björk, Múm, and Sigur Rós, I picture it as a place of billowing clouds, endless green meadows and crystalline mountains. Even though Iceland is probably not the little slice of heaven I imagine it to be, Reykjavik’s Sigur Rós is responsible for some of the most exultant, cinematic, and heavenly music in recent memory.

Their reputation as purveyors of incredible music began early, when their sophomore LP, Ágætis Byrjun (2000), garnered worldwide acclaim and the attention of several U.S. record labels apparently throwing wads of cash at them in exchange for their services (in the end, MCA won the battle). However, the resulting MCA album in 2002, ( ), failed to make the impression that Ágætis Byrjun did and was consequently seen as a letdown. Three long years later and we get Takk, an album thankfully more radiant and accessible than ( ). It’s still not as good as Ágætis Byrjun, but that’s a little like saying Vespertine isn’t as good as Homogenic.

There are even aspects of Takk that improve upon the already realized template of Ágætis Byrjun. For one, the highs are higher. Songs like “Glósóli” and “Svo Hljótt” employ the buildup-and-release technique patented by Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and the power of their crescendos rival even the most towering moments by Texas post-rockers Explosions in the Sky. They’ve nearly perfected the soaring anthem, as evidenced by the positively glorious “Hoppípolla.” In addition, the Geffen Records treatment lends Takk sparkling clarity that Ágætis Byrjun simply didn’t have—an attribute that serves the band very well.

The album’s standout, however, is “Milanó.” Because it’s developed over ten minutes and placed smack in the middle of the album, it works well both as a centerpiece track and as a languorous bridge between Side A and Side B, if you will. An impossibly delicate music box melody is plinked on the piano before layers begin to emerge—drums, vocals, soft strings and other unidentified instruments that blend together and swirl skyward before a tremendous, revelatory crash grabs the listener with uplifting force. “Milanó” is a finely wrought, carefully constructed piece of ether exploration, down to the last twinkling detail, and its ability to set moods and transform surroundings may even remind us of why we began listening to music in the first place.

Quality aside, it’s clear that Takk is their lightest and brightest release to date. Though some Sigur Rós fans will continue to long for the darkness and mystery of Ágætis Byrjun, Sigur Ros were poised for a happier-sounding album after the relative murk of ( ), and in that respect, Takk is very good at what it does. Okay, fine; the band hasn’t “grown” much by this point, and it’s true that they’re more or less continuing to create the pastoral, heavenly soundscapes they did four albums ago. But with music this flat-out beautiful, who really cares?