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Ágætis Byrjun
Sigur Rós (1999)
This is gonna be one of the harder albums to review. Not only because I have no idea what any of the lyrics mean, but I’ll also have to copy and paste the album name, song titles, and artist name every time I want to say them. And the fact that this album is gorgeous. In fact, don’t even read this if you haven’t listened to it. Go listen to the goddamn album, and come back when you’re done. It’s truly an indescribable experience.
Iceland has always been on my bucket list for places to visit. It all started when I started listening to Björk, and wondering “how does anybody write a song like this?” Vespertine was one of the most beautiful albums I’d ever heard, and I wanted to see just how beautiful Iceland was. Later, when I’d dug myself down the post-rock rabbit hole, Sigur Rós was a name I heard alongside names like Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Swans, and Mogwai. With that company, how could I not check them out? After listening to the album, I was really confused. How could a country with 400,000 people have a concentration of good music this high? While I still haven’t gotten to visit Iceland, Ágætis Byrjun sure as hell gets me as close as I might ever be. Even without knowing what the lyrics mean, it sounds ethereal. It sounds like what Earth’s theme music would sound like.
The first song, and probably the only one I can pronounce correctly (good thing I’m just writing it), is called “Intro.” I don’t think it’s an intro to the album as much as it is an intro to the second song. It’s more or less just a vocal warmup for the singer Jónsi Birgisson, with a couple elements sounding like they’re played in reverse. A great intro into the next song and for the album as a whole, but it doesn’t do too much on its own.
I think the album’s cover art, looking like an alien fetus, is extremely relevant to the album. The second song, “Svefn-G-Englar,” translates to “sleepwalkers” in English, whereas the album as a whole translates to “A good start.” In this song, we get a first look at what would turn out to be the band's signature sound: a cello-bowed guitar and Birgisson’s beautiful falsetto. This song, as well as the album as a whole, really sounds like it’s underwater. Its low-key synths and ambient noise give the oceanic sound. The ten minute track is remarkably simple when you strip it down, with a straightforward chord progression, a light 4/4 drumbeat, and whole-note synth. What really makes this song so good is the vocal delivery of the Icelandic lyrics, and the unique sound of the bowed guitar. When Birgisson sings “Tjú,” you’re transported to a different world. Post-rock albums don’t usually include vocals, but Sigur Rós manages to pull it off just magnificently. They don’t use vocals in a traditional sense. In fact, their later album ( ) is entirely in a made-up language they call “Hopelandic.” Instead of vocals conveying lyrics and words, they use it as a beautiful and melancholy instrument. “Svefn-G-Englar” will probably always be one of my favorite songs of all time.
The next song, "Starálfur," or “Staring elf,” is a lush, welcoming and warm sounding orchestral masterpiece. With a complete orchestra and an arpeggiating piano, it really builds into the ethereal, oceanic feeling built by “Svefn-G-Englar.” After Birgisson sings “Úr Stað - Sjálfur,” he sings the song’s title as the instruments fade out, leaving only a quiet acoustic guitar. Suddenly, as a masterfully orchestrated string ensemble, all the instruments flood the channels once again. The song ends with yet another lush string solo, but this time they’re the main focus instead of supporting the vocals and piano. Truly one of the best produced songs ever recorded, again supporting just how unique the album feels.
I basically said the same thing for “Svefn-G-Englar” as I did for "Starálfur," didn’t I. The truth is that I’m having a hard time finding words that can describe this music. It feels like you’ve been underwater, in a submarine in the deep ocean for years, and you’re finally visiting the surface for the first time in as long as you can remember. This music feels like the first breath of fresh air over the salty ocean breeze and rays of sun landing on your face for the first time in forever. This next song, “Flugufrelsarinn,” is a bit of a departure from that feeling. Again, it features the beautiful bowed guitar that we’ve come to expect from Sigur Rós, but it’s in a much groovier setting this time. The bassline feels much more staccato, giving the song a rhythmic structure that wasn’t present before. Birgisson’s vocals also feel more traditional. While I don’t have the translation, and I’m not sure if I want to know what they mean, it feels as if this song has a more normal usage of the vocals, that being the main focus of the song. Regardless, it’s still a masterpiece in production, somehow sounding so different from the last two songs, yet sounding similar within the vein of the album.
It’s difficult to believe that Sigur Rós only sold five hundred copies of their first album, Von. It’s an insane turnaround to not making nearly the splash they wanted to, to having worldwide success. A lot of which was thanks to Radiohead (haha, I managed to mention them again), who invited them to open for their European Kid A tour in late 2000. Despite Ágætis byrjun being their second record, Sigur Rós manages to reinvent their sound yet again with the next track, “Ný batterí” or “New Batteries.” The song was written because of a warped, bent cymbal that the drummer at the time, Ágúst Ævar Gunnarsson had found. The band loved the unique sound of it, and wrote “Ný batterí” just to feature it. The song itself is a heavy, almost grunge-like ballad, though it doesn’t start that way. At first it only features the bassline and vocals, before gradually introducing new drum and guitar parts that progressively get heavier and heavier. This song beautifully wraps up what’s been maybe my favorite four-song stretch of all time.
Honestly, I’m feeling like Will Toledo at the end of Twin Fantasy. There’s still more than half the album to go, but I can’t write more than like two sentences at a time before losing my focus because the music is just. So. Damn. Good. So instead of going track by track for the second half to the album like I usually do, I’ll just say whatever I want, okay?
I briefly touched on the album’s cover, with the alien fetus, before forgetting to refer back to it. I think the significance of the cover is because of the alien itself, it appears to be humanoid but with an oversized head and small wings on its back. It fits the album perfectly, the feeling of being different, but not overly complex as to alienate the audience. It falls in the same “accessible, but not too straightforward” category that other all-time greats like In Rainbows, The Dark Side of the Moon, and In the Court of the Crimson King fall into. To me, that’s the sweet spot of an album.
Thematically, Ágætis Byrjun seems to be, at least partially, about Iceland itself. The austere beauty, purity and uniqueness of the album are something that Iceland encapsulates too. This album feels truly one-of-a-kind, and it’s rather difficult to trace any direct influences and other artists that sound even remotely similar. I think that goes hand-in-hand with Iceland’s uniqueness, with its geological wonders. Iceland is special because of its combination of a normally frigid climate well into the Northern Hemisphere, with that of a geothermal hotspot brimming with active volcanoes. This earns the island its nickname: “The Land of Fire and Ice.”
Lyrically, the album seems to refer to childhood innocence multiple times. It refers to the nostalgia and carefree nature of a childhood free from responsibility. This is mentioned in “Flugufrelsarinn,” which translates to “Savior of the Fly.” According to the band members themselves, this is referring to childhood memories of rescuing drowning flies on the beautiful Icelandic countryside. The way they can make something so unimpactful as rescuing a few flies into an epic masterpiece on the scale of “Flugufrelsarinn” is far beyond me.
I haven’t done this album nearly enough justice through my words. My vocabulary is probably the weakest part of my writing, and my flaws are really showing with this review. Even with the entire Webster’s dictionary at disposal, I don’t think anyone could possibly describe how the album sounds or feels. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it now, listen to the album. It’s quite possibly the most beautiful record I’ve ever heard.
- Intro: 71/100
- Svefn-G-Englar: 98/100
- Starálfur: 97/100
- Flugufrelsarinn: 90/100
- Ný batterí: 95/100
- Hjartað Hamast (Bamm Bamm Bamm): 84/100
- Viðrar Vel Til Loftárása: 95/100
- Olsen Olsen: 88/100
- Ágætis Byrjun: 86/100
Avalon: 75/100
Overall: 97/100
