Sigur Rós first experimented with this orchestral manifestation back in 2023 when they played eight shows in New York alongside the Wordless Music Orchestra.
Since then, these Icelandic sensations have performed 900 shows (and counting) globally, touring with conductor Rob Ames and collaborating with local orchestras in each city.
It’s finally Melbourne’s turn, where Sigur Rós will be backed by the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra’s 41-piece ensemble for two of the three shows and the Royal Melbourne Philharmonic Orchestra for their final date. Punters often cry/faint at regular Sigur Rós shows, so we wonder whether Hamer Hall’s ushers and security have been supplied with smelling salts tonight – just in case.
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We’d love to see stats revealing the number of Sigur Rós fans in attendance who may be experiencing a large-scale orchestral performance for the very first time. There’s scattered pre-show applause and then giggles as some audience members seem unsure about the usual protocol for a show of this nature. Once Sigur Rós hits the stage however, enthusiastic applause spills forth without hesitation. Then Ames raises his baton and we drift off into a dreamlike state as if hypnotised by his shiny long hair, waving about as he works his magic.
The bulk of tonight’s setlist is drawn from Sigur Rós’ latest album ÁTTA (Icelandic for eight), which was released in 2023. Multi-instrumentalist Kjartan Sveinsson had departed before their previous release, 2013’s Kveikur, but ÁTTA marked his return to the fold. For their orchestral tour, Sveinsson orchestrated the arrangements alongside his wife María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir (formerly a Sigur Rós touring member) and Ames.
The elegiac Blóðberg (from ÁTTA) commences our guided meditation this evening. From the very first note that escapes frontman Jón Þór Birgisson (aka Jónsi), who often sings in the fictional language of Hopelandic and plays guitar with a cello bow, there’s collective awareness that music therapy is in session. Jónsi’s falsetto, both delicate and devastating, sometimes sounds like a million voices as we search the stage for a choir that’s not there.
The original version of Starálfur already features lofty strings and jubilant brass. Enhanced by MSO’s full orchestra, it’s one of the show’s many unforgettable, highlight moments.
During the second set, Jónsi’s soaring high notes during Skel are not of this world and we’re uniformly entranced, holding our breath before exhaling as one. The slow, studied introductory piano chords of All Alright – a rare English-language track – land like reassuring caresses: “I want him to know/ What I have done/ I want him to know/ It’s bad…”
Sé Lest’s oompah brass section toward song’s close brings zestful pomp. Audible gasps of audience appreciation greet Hoppípolla’s plonky keys hook.
Experiencing Sigur Rós live, in any incarnation, reminds us that music is a universal language that can help us feel, heal and connect when words won’t suffice. Add the full Melbourne Symphony Orchestra and the band becomes even more transcendent – untamed and profoundly beautiful, a spiritual thing. As emotional wounds stir and reopen, these orchestrations offer a chance to sit with uncomfortable memories and practice self-compassion.
Our genuine standing ovation – during which the Icelandic contingent of Jónsi, Sveinsson, Georg Holm and Ames turn around to clap the orchestra – would’ve gone on forever if the house lights didn’t come up.
Stepping out onto St Kilda Road we actually feel lighter; it’s as if Sigur Rós and the MSO unlocked the secret to handling life’s challenges with grace.
