Event: Urbanscapes Festival presents Sigur Rós
Date: November 25, 2012 (Sunday)
Venue: Padang Astaka, Malaysia
Till this day, I still find it hard to believe that Urbanscapes Festival, what started off as a mere local creative arts festival, managed to bring around something as phenomenon in size as Sigur Rós for their 10-year milestone this year. I mean, yes, I was much delighted when LAMC Productions announced their Singapore concert instalment a few months earlier, but this – this.
Sigur Rós, I have always thought, to be one of the few bands that I would have to make an effort to go see live. Like Radiohead. We have spoken so often about flying all the way to Iceland to see this peculiarly comforting post rock band live in their homegrown habitat. It’s something we have to do, somewhere down our busy urban lives. Be it something to check off for our mid-life crisis, or something to check off our lives once and for all, it has to be done. Yet. Here they were.
I suppose, now is the time that much more credit has to be given to the local event organisers. This year alone, they all have achieved so much. Despite the many downfalls and disgruntles that come along with each of the events, I am still proud of them, and I am glad to be in the middle of it all, at this time and age.
It has been an awful month, to be honest. So much happened, and so much realisations dawned. Despite the few good things that managed to slip in between the cracks, November has been, for the most part, discouraging. Most things did not seem to be going right, and I just long for that one day when I know things will be somewhat alright again, by putting life on hold just for a little while, in the hands of someone who seems to know something of the subconsciousness that I often fail to realise – put words in my mouth, reawaken feelings in my heart.
I was disheartened that my initial plan to catch them in Singapore, to catch them twice, was smothered, and with a heavy heart I had to sell off my concert ticket to a stranger, whom at the very last minute, could not take it off my hands anyway. (And also, to later find out that they played Fljótavík, one of my favourites there and not here – oh the frustration!). So, of course I was excited, to say the least, come Sunday. So much so that I could not wait to get out of my house and get to the festival. Moments leading up to the concert, I was just bouncing at the balls of my feet.
Like sweet dreams from the night before, Sigur Rós crept into our presence with the light footsteps of Í Gær, easing us in, preparing us for that great depression we once grew familiar with in their 2007 compilation album Hvarf/Heim. Proceeding to guide us through the vague subconsciousness behind closed eyes, the archangel Jón Þór Birgisson, or more commonly known by the lesser beings and the non-Icelanders as Jónsi, led us with the sleepless Svefn-g-englar with hypnotising rhythmic drops that echo, and breathed life into the strings of his guitar, transmitting them through the booming speakers onto us, giving us life once again.
The most loved song for the night was, of course, Hoppípolla. When the familiar intro flooded across the mud field of fans, everyone cheered, and was pretty much ready to jump into puddles (of mud). However, I somehow could not grasp the magnificence of the song that night, one that would never fail to make me smile hearing the crescendo rhythm through my headphones, and would make my arms pimply at the climatic bridge. Perhaps it was the inappropriately rowdy surrounding near me, or the way Jónsi had sang his Icelandic verses, hence not creating that effect he had in the recordings. Whilst some friends who had patronised the Singapore installment said this was better, but whatever it was, there was a bar I set for this song, and Sigur Rós did not quite hit the mark that night, unfortunately.
They, instead, hit it for songs unexpected for me. Varúð, one of the newer ones from their latest album Valtari, with the smoke effects creating such eerie haunt playing with the blaring stage lights, and the background display of multiple souls from faceless beings, leaving bodies and finding their peace with the abundant stars in the skies, they made immaculate synchronicity with the steady beat of the drum growing louder, before fading off to the cherub voices echoing: “Varúð…”
Sigur Rós too gave us a lick of where their next working album is going towards with the premiere of Brennisteinn on Malaysian soil. Heard foremost at the Iceland Airwaves Festival in their hometown Reykjavik, and at the many subsequent shows after, it was said to be anti-Valtari, and possessed such darkness and more rock elements to it, which created the perfect lead up to their signature ending song, Popplagið – that has once ended ( ), and Inni, and now, the 10th installment of a once small time local creative arts festival. How the stage lights just ran amok as the feedbacks of Jónsi’s bow running recklessly across the strings of his electric guitar, and his eerie pitch, on repeat, reached far across all four corners of Padang Astaka, as if reminding us obsessively, compulsively: remember, remember this moment, as we end the night with such might.
Many lives completed in full circle that night. Mine included, suffice to say. Damien Rice, Death Cab for Cutie, Dashbord Confessional, and now – this. Never in my life have I ever thought that I would be able to catch all the bands and musicians I want to see live before I turn 30. It just makes you wonder: what now? Where do you go from here, when all the ones on top of your list are checked off? Festivals, perhaps. Yes. That would be a feat. Or I could turn back around, and start all over again, in a whole different place. There is still always the dream of seeing Sigur Rós in Iceland. Heh.
Backseat Radio II 