God must be from Iceland.
Years ago I saw Tori Amos in concert. The best way, I found, to describe it was to liken it to a religious experience (or as close to one as I would be able to recognize).
Last Wednesday, I had another.
After work, I noticed that I had 5 missed calls from an LA area friend. Fearing either someone was dead, or I was about to miss the social event of the season, I returned his call (something I am not apt to do). He had an extra ticket to Sigur Ros, an Icelandic band that falls under the category of "ethereal" music, and whose counterparts include Radiohead (ala Kid A) and Godspeed You Black Emperor!.
Curious about their live performance, and always eager to find myself at the Hollywood Bowl on a nice California night, I agreed.
And for the second time in my life, I found God in music.
Sigur Ros put on an amazing performance, one that cannot be described in a way as to impart on you the myriad of ways of which I experienced the music as much as I heard it. Video screens played black and white images on birds on wires, and baby-dolls, and people dancing in the grass. Lights were systematically used to literally blind the audience at times, making certain that the event goers truly heard the music as much as they watched the action. The lead singer's expressions looked tormented and emotionally distraught. He strummed his guitar not with worn fingers, but with a bow. Violinists on stage mimicked his high-pitched voice with their soothing melodies, and pot-smoking Sigur Ros enthusiasts curtailed any distractive talking or movement.
Everyone there was feeling something more than simply vibrations in their inner ear. I could feel the music and the emotions in every vein, and in every hair follicle.
Now, it could have been the excessive second-hand smoke that I was inhaling, but something in me was changed that night.
I only wish I understood one fucking word that they sang.
Last Wednesday, I had another.
After work, I noticed that I had 5 missed calls from an LA area friend. Fearing either someone was dead, or I was about to miss the social event of the season, I returned his call (something I am not apt to do). He had an extra ticket to Sigur Ros, an Icelandic band that falls under the category of "ethereal" music, and whose counterparts include Radiohead (ala Kid A) and Godspeed You Black Emperor!.
Curious about their live performance, and always eager to find myself at the Hollywood Bowl on a nice California night, I agreed.
And for the second time in my life, I found God in music.
Sigur Ros put on an amazing performance, one that cannot be described in a way as to impart on you the myriad of ways of which I experienced the music as much as I heard it. Video screens played black and white images on birds on wires, and baby-dolls, and people dancing in the grass. Lights were systematically used to literally blind the audience at times, making certain that the event goers truly heard the music as much as they watched the action. The lead singer's expressions looked tormented and emotionally distraught. He strummed his guitar not with worn fingers, but with a bow. Violinists on stage mimicked his high-pitched voice with their soothing melodies, and pot-smoking Sigur Ros enthusiasts curtailed any distractive talking or movement.
Everyone there was feeling something more than simply vibrations in their inner ear. I could feel the music and the emotions in every vein, and in every hair follicle.
Now, it could have been the excessive second-hand smoke that I was inhaling, but something in me was changed that night.
I only wish I understood one fucking word that they sang.