I have felt a bit downtrodden
recently. The normal day to day occurrences that
cause us all stress, the biting cold of the winters in Rochester, whatever your
gloom, it is something we can all relate to. Some of us lose ones we love, through death or through the
end of relationships, and it hurts. It takes the warmth in our chests and
replaces it with an emptiness that feels as though it will never be whole
again. We could wallow in
self-pity, we could get angry at ourselves, or at the situations we are in. Or we can accept these things for what
they are, and put on a Sigur Ros record.
Towards the end of next month
(February 21st) the Alternative Music Film Society will be screening
“Heima”. A documentary that
follows the Icelandic post-rockers back to their homeland to play a series of
shows for free, some in fields that look like they were pulled right out of
middle earth, some in old defunct bomb shelters, some in the middle of a
village. They decided to go home
and remind themselves and their countrymen that they knew where they came
from. I would highly recommend
attending this film. It is life
changing.
I can still remember the first time
I ever heard Sigur Ros. It was almost 6 years ago now. I was driving down Norton St. heading
towards the 590 on-ramp. This was right after the girl I had been dating for
close to a year called me, to tell me she had met someone else. Cliché? Incredibly.
However, this is an integral part of the story. My body felt devoid of feeling. I felt incredibly alone, betrayed, and
confused. The CD in my car had a
mix of songs I had never heard, songs that my older, wiser cousin Pat had
recommended to me. To this day he
has never steered me wrong when it comes to music. He had been telling me about this Icelandic band I had never
heard of, and how it would literally change the way I looked at the world, and
the way I thought about music.
I put in the mix CD and turned the
volume all the way up (the way you do as a 19 year old whose heart has just
been broken). I heard the first
few notes slowly fade in, an ambient wash of bells, reverb drenched guitars and
glockenspiel. It grew and grew,
and as I saw the sun over the peak of the hill, the most beautiful piano melody
that (to this day) I have ever heard embraced me in its gorgeous
intervals. The song (which I would
later discover was called “Hoppipolla”) made this metaphorical light inside me
grow, and slowly warm my chest, my hands, and my face. I felt tears rolling down my cheeks,
unrelated to the “heartbreak” I had just experienced. For a moment I felt as though I was floating. I felt this huge wall of beautiful sounds
lifting me from my seat, and placing me in a world that was devoid of anything
ugly or morose. The song reached
its climax and then dropped to just a layer of ambience and a lead vocal
line. The vocalist sang a string
of words I couldn’t understand, “Og ég fæ blóðnasir. En ég stend alltaf upp.”
At that moment it didn’t matter that I didn’t understand the language, I
connected to it. As the vocal
phrase finished, the enormous wave of sound returned more triumphant than
before. I felt goose-bumps form on
my arms, I let the unbidden tears flow, I was one with everything. As an army of trumpets took over the
vocal melody I turned onto the 590 ramp, felt the sun’s warmth on my face and
smiled through the tears. I knew
someone had felt exactly as I did that very moment, and had captured it in this
song. I knew this was a pivotal
moment in my life. I knew I would
never forget it.
Last week, the relationship I had
been in for 3 years ended abruptly.
All the emotions I thought I had experienced and understood came back
like a storm. I couldn’t bring
myself to get in my car that day.
I walked to work in the snow.
I wanted to feel something, even if it wasn’t pleasant, and as my iTunes
shuffle began, the quiet build I now knew well, “Hoppipola” swept me away, and
once again I smiled through the tears, through all the pain that I felt inside,
and I let it wash over me again. As empty as I felt, as cold as I was, and
bitter as that winter morning’s frozen kiss on my cheeks felt, I let the warmth
return to me. I felt at peace.
I know this isn’t my typical blog
post. I apologize to those of you
expecting my normal semi-sarcastic-analytical-run-on-sentence laden post. I am sorry to bear my soul, but in
order to understand how powerful the music that Sigur Ros makes is, it needed
to be contextualized. I hope that
anyone that is feeling hollow, or broken, or cold can take the same feeling of
unbridled joy and sheer awe that I did from Sigur Ros. My cousin was right. Sigur Ros changed the way I looked at
music. They changed the way I saw
the world. On the 1 in 7 billion
chance that someone from Sigur Ros is reading this, I want to say this...I
don’t know your reasons, I don’t know your inspiration, I can’t speak your
language, but you have given me something that I will never be without. You have given me hope, and I will
share it with anyone who will listen.
If you can attend our screening of
Sigur Ros’ “Heima” on 2/21/14 I suggest you do so. It is truly a touching testament to a band who does it for
all the right reasons. If you
can’t make it, and want to check them out, come in and see us at Lakeshore, we
have their whole discography on CD and vinyl, most of which you will find no
where else. And thank you everyone
who read this. It was very therapeutic,
and if nothing else, even if you never agree with my recommendations, I hope
that there is music that moves you on this level. Everyone deserves to have hope.
Listen to "Hoppipolla" By Sigur Ros
