I went to the gym today!... for the first time in several months, if not a year. It’s in the basement of my apartment building, which at times has become more of a taunt than a convenience, due to my un-fondness for traditional workout methods. I defend this by saying I prefer to enjoy my exercise, although as a result I don’t get much of it at all.
I went down at around 2pm, and began by struggling with one of the lightest weights on some machine I don’t know the name of. “Pectoral fly” I believe it was labeled.
In my wired Apple earbuds played the last few songs of Europa’s new album, LAgoon. I oscillated between feelings of positive appraisal and mild ambivalence (significantly due to my own mood). My official opinion on the album goes beyond that, of course, but that’s for another time. Next on queue was the first song of Sigur Rós’ Ágætis byrjun.
I recently subscribed to a newsletter which I have found to be very effective in classic album discovery, an interest that has re-arisen in me recently. This morning (I’m assuming, although I slept through til the late afternoon), I received an email suggesting that I listen to the record. I can’t say I was particularly intrigued, but I was curious to get a taste of the elusive Sigur Rós.
Elusive is probably the wrong word to describe the group, although I think in relation to my experience it is pretty fitting. The name Sigur Rós exists in some dusty compartment of my brain’s memory sector, where at some point it must have been placed, but the origins of this familiarity have long since faded. If you had asked me yesterday who Sigur Rós is, I’d probably say he was some philosopher, or the fictional main character from an old novel I’ve never read.
However, as Europa’s LAgoon came to a close, I was formally introduced. Looking back now, the first track didn’t particularly capture me, but I didn’t skip it either. It was undoubtedly pleasant, composed of ornately twisted audio chops that more so became a backing track to whatever the hell I was thinking about. The second track is where I began to actively listen to the music playing in my ears.
I still don’t quite get how earbuds can achieve such high quality at such a low volume. To me, it’s similar to the puzzle of how records can replay a full range song/recording just with varying grooves.
What I heard on the second track was a kind of organic, shoegaze-y bliss, that made everything else I’ve heard [in the shoegaze “genre”] sound like a shitty attempt at replicating it (if you are a shoegaze-lover, pmo, :) I don’t mean to hate).
This track, along with the rest of the record, exudes something that is ethereal and atmospheric, while still retaining anchoring to earth. It doesn’t feel like you’re in space or in some foreign universe, but it’s as if you can float, softly jumping 20 feet in the air and gliding gently back down to the earth’s surface. Much like the blindfolded creation of a stew, while its inspirations are at times unclear, the resulting music feels like a composite of infinite cultural influences. Similarities could be drawn to Brian Eno in this manner.
The vocals, which are often near the low level of a whisper, usually consist either of a choir or a single voice. Somehow, through the inherent emotional weight of the composition, the choir feels as if it represents an international world choir, while the solo voices feel like you are being spoken to by a kind-hearted, non-arrogant guru.
The whole project is layered with a diverse array of field recordings – nature noise, chatter, electronic mechanics – unidentifiable in terms of time period. The instruments, while likely recorded in a more traditional setting, have been processed in a way where one might also mistakenly categorize them as field recordings.
The guitar is harsh in distortion, yet pleasant to the ears, downsampled and filtered. It seems to desire power, but is oriented in an existential environment which renders it harmless. The piano and pluck-y elements are similarly mixed, however this time the processing has a different effect. The contextualized atmosphere turns the piano’s natural sadness into a bittersweet kind of beauty.
As I listened to the album, I felt like I was being spoken to by some wise uncle or distant brother. Keep in mind that at this point I had assumed that Sigur Rós was one man, and for some reason, that this album was probably dated in 1988.
After I was done working out (which I generously will say lasted 30 minutes), I was torn away by a scheduled production session with a person I’ve been somewhat neglecting. Given it’s my final semester of college in New York, I have a good amount of tasks that hold a higher priority in order for me to graduate. After I prematurely capped the session at 9pm, I was eager to get back to the album, and did so while I cooked up some skinny bitch’s fried rice from Trader Joe’s.
One of the core themes throughout this album is its timelessness. If this record was released today, it would blow every pop icon and convoluted underground artist out of the water. One might also, reasonably so, assume that the album was created anywhere in the mid-late 1900s, given its simplicity and restraint. It makes sense then that the real year of release was 1999, a year symbolic of large-scale cultural evolution.
Both in the music and in the visual representation, the group emphasizes a unique strain of nostalgia. Typically, when people reference nostalgia, there is a distinction between fond memory or yearning, gratefulness or a bittersweet taste. In their expression they somehow encompass it all.
You know that feeling when you are overwhelmed with emotion so much that your brain doesn’t know what to pick? You feel like laughing, yelling, punching, crying, screaming, running– all at once. It is an extremely rare experience and one that, in turn, is both enjoyable and painful. For me, this feeling arises most often with music, although that is not to say it happens often at all (if I had to guess 1x/1-2 years).
Now, I’m getting ahead of myself, as my listening did not evoke one of these moments for me, but the general emotional theme of the album can be described by this existential, timeless, undefinable catharsis in simultaneously experiencing all of the beauties and tragedies of life.
I am grateful for my fake fried rice, my Temu ice machine, my pillow, and for not understanding.
If you got this far I am happy to be sharing with you. Please let me know what you think about the album, or about how I can improve my writing:). Sigur Rós - Ágætis byrjun 10/10
