Valtari showcases Sigur Rós’ incredible ability to create minimalist music, almost a soundtrack, but still paint vibrant images, implying a narrative as if the film were running in front of the listener’s eyes. Moments of natural beauty manifest themselves: the final rain droplets of a storm; the sun breaking through the clouds and illuminating a mountain peak; the same sun descending into darkness while the gleaming stars appear. There are also times of fear, encapsulating the force of the storm itself. Valtari isn’t confined to the Icelandic landscape and occurrences of nature. This same contrast is shown as the music mirrors the bliss of waking up from sleep on a sunny afternoon or that of laying beside someone you love, yet then creates the vacuum of isolated internal desolation when that loved one unexpectedly departs. The majority of these are moments where sound is usually absent. Sigur Rós somehow perform the extraordinary feat of evoking this sense of silence by depicting the scene, but paradoxically using music as their medium.
Previous to Valtari, it seemed as if Sigur Rós were conforming to the demands of the masses to create more accessible music either with a faster tempo or large climaxes. Indeed, songs such as ‘Varúð’ blossom euphorically, but elsewhere Sigur Rós do not seem pressurised into forcing all tracks to grow and diminish. This is what makes Valtari so stunning. Although the sparseness will draw comparisons with ( ), it is more reminiscent of Jónsi & Alex’s Riceboy Sleeps than any previous Sigur Rós album as the songs’ progressions are natural. But in whichever direction they do lead, the result is one of breathtaking elegance, creating a rich and colourful landscape within which the listener is immersed.
FIVE STARS
