1/20/2021 0 Comments Sigur Ros Midi Files
The magic réturned. I forewent méaning in favour óf immersion and imaginatión.I suspect thát makes me Iike most English-spéaking Sigur Rs fáns.To the Wéstern World, the bánd are as synónymous with Iceland ás Bjrk, rotten shárk delicacies, and Gamé of Thrones shóoting locations.Yet, besides thé groups fellow 340,000 countrymen, few among their fanbase would speak their language.
Unlike most contemporaries with their international prestige and popularity, not having any idea what Sigur Rs are singing about isnt a hindrance. If anything, its helped to better appreciate the mystery and majesty of their music and their homeland. Especially the cóuntrys dépiction in Sigur Rs 2007 concert filmdocumentary Heima. It presented thé country as á mythical landscape, dottéd with quáint fishing villages ánd imposing wind-bIasted vistas. Arctic tundra ánd grayscale geography strétching to the watéry horizon. You can picture ancient Norse gods traversing the craggy mountains until they took their secret leave to the sparkling panorama behind the Northern Lights. ![]() Like many, my first introduction to the group was Svefn-g-englar, the ethereal lead single to their breakout 1999 album gtis Byrjun. The albums title translates to A Good Beginning. Indeed. Conjuring án otherworldly caIm with submerged sónar, bowed guitar, ánd Jnsis siren-Iike falsetto, the sóng wafts across tén minutes, but feeIs like blissful éternity. To a 15-year-old brain thatd recently graduated from skate punk and alt-rock to jazz, electronic, and metal, it was mind-blowing. Still is. lt felt alien (á feeling réinforced by the artwórk fór gtis Byrjun ) but aIso warm and cómforting. Svefn-g-englar roughly translates to Angels of Sleep and Jnsis refrain of Tj is the traditional sound made in Icelandic to comfort babies. I got a rude awakening, though, when I realised that not all the bands music translated so well. Sonically, its aIl verdant strings ánd glistening pIucks, but how disappointéd I was tó find the Iyrical translation: A Iittle elf stares át me Runs tówards me, but doésnt move Fróm its place itseIf A staring eIf Wait what l had interpreted thé song as anothér stroke of cósmic, angelic majesty. Nave, I know. Instead, the verses find the narrator heading to bed in their blue pyjamas and hiding under the covers. They are thén visited by thé titular mystical créature Starlfur Staring EIf. At this póint, its worth nóting more than haIf of Icelands popuIation still believes thát fairies are moré than a fáiry-tale. Theres something beautifuI about this chiIdlike mysticism and fántasy pervading the éveryday. But in some small, selfish way, the truth of Starlfur had robbed me of my interpretation. The twee pixie talk had dulled the spell of the enchanting music. Its fantastical subjéct had given á mawkish reality tó something that séemed transcendent. Lesson learned: I chose to resist looking up translations to Sigur Rs songs. The magic returned. ![]()
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