Gig played on 11/07/05

Back at the tail end of the last millennium, when Sigur Ros shows were equal parts drifting bliss and, in their own words, "roaring screams of terror", the band made a grand claim for their future. "We are not a band, we are music. We do not intend to become superstars or millionaires. We are simply going to change music forever and the way people think about music. And don't think we can't do it. We will."

In the five years following, the group found themselves being changed by music rather than the other way around. Those early, astonishing shows - all fury and calm, swathes of invigorating noise tempered with moments of serenity - gave way to a deeper ambience, less reliant on volume. "()", funereal in tone and seemingly informed by death, felt like it was looking inwards, locked in a personal process, possibly grief, possibly healing. Even its moment of raging release at the end seemed utterly insular, introspection suddenly on fire.

Now, after the catharsis of "()", we have a stronger Sigur Ros, reborn almost, with an album tellingly titled "Takk" ("Thank You" in Icelandic). The first thing you notice about the first new song played tonight, "Glósóli", is that the noise and brazen fury of those early performances is finally back. There's a harder, nastier tone to the rendition of the songs - "Ny Batteri" pulsing with power, the brief wave of sound in "Svefn-N-Englar" bordering on the demonic - that makes you feel that they're ready to take on anything.

But, inevitably, the ultimate aim has shifted. From the evidence of "Sćglópur", Sigur Ros aren't so concerned about changing music any more as absorbing it. With their string section Amina tinkering artfully away on radio boxes and xylophones in the background, the group feel their way through intricate electronica before happening upon a steady, recognizable piano chord sequence, as if lifted from a house anthem that happened to drift by on the airwaves. Jonsi's vocal follows more traditional song patterns but the strident, clatter of the drums and the gathering noise sound like a dark cloud engulfing Ibiza. And it's then that you notice the strangest thing. You're dancing to a Sigur Ros song.

And so it continues. As the light fades and the curving vapour trails in the sky give way to the walls of Somerset House bathed in orange and pink, the setting almost dreamlike at the close of day, "Sé Lest" and "Gong" further the theme, bringing electronica to a traditional song structure, each band member tinkering away, Karri wandering around on various errands. "Andvari", meanwhile, feels like pop music beamed in from another realm, the rules shifted somewhat, the way songs work rearranged subtly.

Perhaps the idea now isn't to change music but to become music, to absorb all genres until they're an ever-expanding mass of ideas and sounds and feelings. Or maybe it's just nice mood music on a lovely day and God isn't weeping those golden tears in heaven or anywhere else for that matter. However romantic your view of Sigur Ros may be, one's thing for certain. The new album sounds like it's going to be the best thing they've ever recorded. And with a group this far ahead of the game, that's reason enough, surely, for just a smidgeon of over-excitement.

by Ian Watson