Sigur Ros

I had a delightful surprise last night. Practically free tickets to see Sigur Ros at the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra at 8. Nevermind the fact that I had to get up for work at 5:30 the next morning, forget that crazy stomach flu that I’d been harboring, and I laugh at something as minor as car problems and inflated gas prices—Mike and I were on our way!

First things first. Hearing (and seeing too) Sigur Ros live was a spiritual experience. I mean, what else could it be when you mix Icelanders, cellos, and a falsetto to die for? The more I hear about Iceland, the more I become begrudgingly fascinated with their culture and the “other-ness” of it all. Why can’t I be a cool Icelandic gal? Or at least one of these cool artsy people that attended the concert? I have no body piercings besides the two in either ear, my hair isn’t short and/or spiky and/or colored blue and/or in dreds, although I could manage the dreds quite easily. And I wasn’t dressed in all black. Wait, I was. Whatever. Am I destined to feel out of place wherever I go, even if I probably do (or could at least) belong? That’s another question for another time, but I do love the neo-hippie types and the tattooed all over types and the “I’m so casual I’ll just wear jeans-and-a-t-shirt types.” I guess I fit in somewhere between them all.

Anyhow, seeing Sigur live was like being enveloped in a surreal painting that had been given a voice. I’m not sure if this makes any sense, but most of their music feels like love, and I couldn’t help finding Christ in that, which reminds me of something I’ve been reading in “Velvet Elvis” as of late about beauty. Bell reminds us that if we as Christians find something to be beautiful, embrace it because its essence is our Lord. Everything lovely and amazing (sorry, that’s a movie title) finds its origins in God.

There I was, a little cranky, sick, and tired, but in the midst of that I found that their song has the capacity to resonate so deeply within you; it’s like the music I imagine when the universe was created, and I feel as though somehow, we’ve all always been a part of it. It’s a paradoxically ancient and fresh sound that’s sometimes whimsical, sometimes haunting, and sometimes energetic, or a mix of the three. And any band that can make its crowd go wild with the sound of just one note and without once speaking that crowd’s language is a band definitely worth seeing.

So ended our night, and we began the sleepy drive down I-20 with the remnants of Sigur Ros echoing through us.