Talk to any of their legion of devotees and you’ll soon learn that Sigur Rós are a very serious business indeed. Having broken through at the turn of the century with their celestial post-rock sang in some beatific argot (‘Hopelandic’ or, as it transpired, sheer “gobbledygook”), they seemed not of this world.
In fact, they were Icelandic, capturing the elemental extremes of their native landscape sonically and creating something that could perfectly soundtrack end times and heavenly ascensions. Their star rose throughout the last decade, reaching fever pitch with 2005’s commercially massive Takk and gushing affection from celebrity fans. Coldplay’s Chris Martin confirmed their status as the most worshipped band on Planet Earth when he revealed that he had played their music during the birth of his first child with Gwyneth Paltrow. That was Sigur Rós: portentous, awesome (in the truest sense) music played by reserved and solemn mystery men. Music to be played during Very Serious Things Indeed. Entering this world, exiting this world.
In fact, Sigur Rós themselves were the only ones not taking it too seriously. Not that you’d know: for the longest time, language barriers and an unease in the spotlight meant that the stilted interviews they gave only reinforced the consensus. We weren’t to know that in their down time they were getting drunk and dancing wildly to cheesy techno music. Or watching the football. Now we do. More comfortable with their position as their country’s biggest ever band and more at ease talking in public, it’s under these circumstances that I chat to a cheery and disarmingly convivial Georg Hólm.
The bassist is not, however, totally convinced that the perception of them has changed.
“Not completely I don’t think!” he chuckles all the way from Reykjavík. “People sometimes take us as people a little too seriously still. But we always say, we like to joke around personally and we also like to joke around with our own music. We make constant fun of it. As soon as we walk onto the stage and people are in front of us, we turn a very serious ‘button’ on and we really try to play the best we possibly can and treat it really carefully. But if you saw our soundcheck, it wouldn’t be the same band!”
Any specifics?
“There’ll usually be loads of really loud, poppy techno music going on. People dancing. And a lot of laughing and having fun. Then we walk on stage and start off with a really slow song!”
If you want to strip away mystique and introduce primary colours, getting involved with the most successful cartoon of all-time is probably the way to go. Not only were Jónsi Birgisson, Orri Páll Dýrason and Georg given a yellow makeover in a new episode of The Simpsons this year, but they also contributed music and turned in a seraphic take on its theme tune. Only when you appear on The Simpsons can you be certain that you’ve properly made it.
“Yeah, absolutely! We looked at each other and said, ‘ok, we’re going to be in The Simpsons... we might as well retire now!’ Haha! We were on the road at the time and thought we didn’t really have the time, but you don’t really turn down an opportunity like that. We just did it backstage with a laptop.”
Sigur Ros and The Simpsons don’t seem like obvious bedfellows. The process must have been very different to how they normally create.
“We just thought that if they were asking us they obviously wanted our sound,” Georg counters. “They sent us a skeleton, a frame thing, and some notes. Where they wanted the music and how it should sound. They were really happy with the demo so we ended up just fixing it up, mixing it a little bit and resending it. It didn’t take very long.”
That has been a feature of Sigur Rós’ writing for the past year. Their seventh record, Kveikur (meaning candlestick), has just arrived hot on the heels of 2012’s beautiful-yet-befuddling Valtari. This swift approach is completely at odds with Valtari’s construction. That record had an incubation period of at least four years, with its genesis even further back in time.
“The last album was made over such ridiculously long periods of time,” Georg concedes. “The first recording of it was in 2005. While we were making the finishing touches to that, we were meeting up and started writing more stuff. It just came so quickly, the new stuff. We decided to go into the studio and I believe it was only three or four days recording all the basics.”
Sigur Rós were now operating as a three-piece, following the departure of long-time member Kjartan Sveinsson, announced in January.
“I think it had been on his mind for quite a while actually, that he wanted to do something else,” says Georg. “Sometimes jokingly, and sometimes more serious, he would say, ‘ah yes, I want to do something different’. It’s not like, ‘I don’t like this band any more’, I guess he just wanted to do more... Actually, he once said he wanted to do something ‘more serious’!”
He wasn’t keen on larking about on Simpsons episodes?
“Exactly, já!”
Kveikur is a primal record, almost metallic in sound, kicking against the poppier elements of 2008’s Með suð..., most pertinently, the hushed electronica of Valtari. A growling, gripping work, built to be played live. Was it the first time that the new record felt like it should be such a strong reaction to the one that came before it?
“That’s probably the only thing we talked about when we started doing this. We wanted any new music that we would write to be something completely different than we’d ever done before. We were talking more about music than we’ve ever done before. Pushing each other a little bit... even doing little tricks. Jónsi put his bow on the guitar and was playing this part, so me and Orri walked over to his amp and turned off the reverb!”
Holm giggles mischievously.
“Just like: ‘what can happen now, what you gonna do now? How do you get out of this?!’”
And how did he get out of it?
“It’s actually the last song on the record. The thing that sounds like strings is actually not strings, it’s Jónsi’s bowed guitar without reverb on it. Beautiful. It’s a bit like someone sawing a violin in half!”
When the band talked about Valtari, they admitted to being puzzled about the process. Kveikur seems like a record that’s easier for to understand.
“Yeah, absolutely. The last record was all pieces that we really liked but we couldn’t really fit them together. It became a blur. With Kveikur, you almost remember every note. It was very energetic and fun process.”
The “fun” word crops up time and again. They are passionate about what they do, but do it all with a smile. Over the course of Valtari’s difficult gestation, fans were deeply concerned that it could be the end.
Have Sigur Rós come to terms with how deeply the music affects people?
“Yes, I think so. It’s obvious to us now that our music is very important for people. It might be just one song, or a record, that they just grab a hold of and it’s kind of ‘theirs’. So we have to treat that very carefully. It’s not completely ours any more.”
There must be times when people are quite literally grabbing a hold of them. Any instances where they thought a fan’s reaction was a little extreme?
Another long laugh.
“It’s happened occasionally, yes. You meet people that tell you a story, we get letters sometimes also. Sometimes they’re very sincere and very beautiful. Touching. And sometimes they’re just... completely crazy!”
In 2014, Sigur Rós celebrate their 20th Anniversary. They mark their “birthday” every year, so the next will be a big occasion.
“It doesn’t really feel like 20 years to be honest,” Georg concludes. “We keep laughing about it. It’s gotta be something extra, extra special. Although, we always say it doesn’t really matter how long we’ve been doing it. As long as it’s still fun and we’re still enjoying it. Then we’ll continue doing it.”
Kveikur is out now on XL. Sigur Ros play the O2, Dublin on November 16