Sigur Ros Fail To Beat Their Recordings

For whatever reason (being out of town, being strapped for cash, or not being aggressive enough in hounding the Ticketmaster site), I had never made it to a Sigur Rós show. So naturally I was ready to witness in a live setting the extraterrestrial grandeur that had so often illuminated many a wakeful 3 a.m. morning.

I was certainly satiated with the grandiose opening. The Icelanders took the stage bathed in flashing lights that projected their ghostly shadows onto a white screen that concealed the stage. As the opening song "Glosoli," from Takk, rose and billowed into a pounding crescendo, the screen was unravelled to reveal the band in full swing, strumming, hammering and caterwauling away. It seemed, initially, as though this would be a great night.

So why was it that, halfway through the set, I found myself drifting in and out of a sleepy daze, wondering if staying at home and turning up the volume on the stereo with a spliff in hand would have been sufficient?

The explanation perhaps lies with Sigur Rós' most compelling characteristic — the air of mystery that swaddles them. Their enigmatic post-rock has always lent itself well to subjective imagery. Most people inevitably use metaphors involving glaciers, caves and fjords in their description of the quartet's music. Regardless, much of the satisfaction derived from listening to it comes from interpreting the atmospherics to create a sonic landscape, unique to each listener.

So to see four indie-lookin' dudes amble on stage in front of some pretty dull projected visuals and stoically offer up a verbatim performance of their recorded alien hymns was a little underwhelming. The pre-packaged imagery served to stunt the process of image conjuring that is so central to the Sigur Ros experience.

Yes, Jonsi Birgisson's falsetto was flawless. Yes, the band were impressive in their proficiency. But for much of the first half, the set seemed cold and mechanical, with the songs lacking the idiosyncrasies, hiccups and variations you would expect to see at a live show. Furthermore, it was disappointing that Sigur Ros played it so safe with a Takk-heavy set list, avoiding riskier, more expansive offerings from Agaetis Byrjun, or even some of the darker moments of ( ).

To be fair, though, the latter half of the set was considerably more memorable. A distinct increase in onstage energy was discernable when the opening bars of the relatively peppy Takk standout "Hoppipolla" filled Massey Hall. From there, toes tapped and heads bobbed with considerable enthusiasm all the way to the set highlight, "Olsen Olsen." Here, Birgisson's voice — a formidable instrument — soared and curled superbly around his bowed guitar.

After hopping offstage a song later, Sigur Rós returned for the encore, which culminated with a rousing rendition of "Untitled #8 (Popplagi)" from ( ) that resonated with lovely, ethereal force. Still, it seemed funny that my post-show listen to Takk on headphones during a windy springtime stroll was almost as affecting an experience as the gig itself.

To view some photos of the Sigur Rós performance at Massey Hall, click here.