21.00, Other Stage

Sometimes SIGUR ROS appear to me to be one of the most ridiculous bands on the planet. I mean, singing in a made-up language? Insisting on playing guitar with a violin bow? Listen to Agaetis Byrjun or ( ) in a certain frame of mind and it seems so excessive and prog-rock indulgent that it becomes impossible to imagine how you could distinguish a parody from the real thing. At the same time I’m often struck by how distanced and emotionally frigid their music can seem. Tonight, though, these thoughts are very far from my mind. Everything – the sense of a gathering storm presaged by a few large raindrops, the falling dusk, probably even the leylines of legend – is in its right place so that it all makes perfect sense. As on ( ), the songs seem to flow seamlessly into one another, less discrete stretches of music than the constituent parts of a much larger whole. Consequently the performance itself seems to trace a narrative progression, starting slowly but gradually and gracefully building up through successive songs to a climactic peak, the final track from ( ), which erupts with volcanic passion to stunning effect. Comparisons with Mogwai – who, through their curation of the 2000 All Tomorrow’s Parties festival, introduced the UK to the band (and vice versa) – are not only inevitable but also, it must be said, favourable. As good as Braithwaite’s bunch of Buckfast-swilling noisemongers were, on this occasion they can consider themselves overshadowed and outdone: this is even more wondrous, even more awe-inspiring, and – crucially – even louder.