Music: Incubus - Mexico - Morning View
Mood: Anxious
No. 49 - Sigur Rós - Ágætis Byrjun
This is a confession: I am a sucker for what my cousin Sahil calls "minor-key-art-rock". However, this does not mean that Sigur Ros are proprietors of such, nor do they carry any proverbial torch as a testament to serve as a footnote to their brand of mood music. To term this music "post-rock" would be an insult; Sigur Rós are pre-whatever comes this century. Piano, flutes, tremolo, horns, feedback, and that godly amazing voice scrubs souls pure with the black volcanic sands from the beaches of Vík. Birgisson's invented lyrical language of Hopelandish may be crying in tongues or even plain gibberish, but sheer emotions like this cleanse as universally as sodium sulfate.
Sigur Rós make this bombastic claim on their website: "We are simply gonna change music forever, and the way people think about music. And don't think we can't do it, we will." The fact that they've scored hits in Iceland with this spectacular orchestrated soul speaks of both their power and the credibility of the natives. The alien angel fetus pressed in blue ink on the cover serves as the perfect logo. Sigur Rós effortlessly make music that is massive, glacial, and sparse. They are Hidden People. Children will be conceived, wrists will be slashed, scars will be healed, and tears will be wrenched by this group. At the time of their release, they were considered the first vital band of the 21st Century. That sentiment might still stand today, if not for the onslaught of guitar-rock and saturated souls that fester on the mainstream boiler. Still, there's no denying the album as a tremendously ambitious work of art that succeeds.
Mood: Anxious
No. 49 - Sigur Rós - Ágætis Byrjun
This is a confession: I am a sucker for what my cousin Sahil calls "minor-key-art-rock". However, this does not mean that Sigur Ros are proprietors of such, nor do they carry any proverbial torch as a testament to serve as a footnote to their brand of mood music. To term this music "post-rock" would be an insult; Sigur Rós are pre-whatever comes this century. Piano, flutes, tremolo, horns, feedback, and that godly amazing voice scrubs souls pure with the black volcanic sands from the beaches of Vík. Birgisson's invented lyrical language of Hopelandish may be crying in tongues or even plain gibberish, but sheer emotions like this cleanse as universally as sodium sulfate.
Sigur Rós make this bombastic claim on their website: "We are simply gonna change music forever, and the way people think about music. And don't think we can't do it, we will." The fact that they've scored hits in Iceland with this spectacular orchestrated soul speaks of both their power and the credibility of the natives. The alien angel fetus pressed in blue ink on the cover serves as the perfect logo. Sigur Rós effortlessly make music that is massive, glacial, and sparse. They are Hidden People. Children will be conceived, wrists will be slashed, scars will be healed, and tears will be wrenched by this group. At the time of their release, they were considered the first vital band of the 21st Century. That sentiment might still stand today, if not for the onslaught of guitar-rock and saturated souls that fester on the mainstream boiler. Still, there's no denying the album as a tremendously ambitious work of art that succeeds.
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