Last night Brian took me to The Met in Philly to see an Icelandic band called Sigur Ros*. I’d only ever heard a few bars of their music when Brian played them and to say the music is ethereal would be to make it palpable. I’m no music critic, but I will see most anything live and love the challenge of language to share an experience.
Let’s start with the venue, itself. Having lived in NYC for many years, when you say The Met it means one of two things – the museum or the opera house – both of which hold in their walls, the refinement and respect of their offerings.
The museum attracts locals and tourists alike, costumes ranging from jeans and shorts to dresses and blazers. The opera house is a theatre that elevates the mundane and it too invites both locals and visitors. The dress code there is more intentional and can range from business casual to runway couture. The Met, to me, implies something special, regardless of the show.
The Met in Philly shares some of those qualities but vibrates at a different frequency. It felt both elegant and shabby, current and out of time, all the while giving the feeling of both an upscale theatre and a concert arena. The low lights illuminating the halls appeared to have a combination of smoke and dust swirling upward, lending more atmosphere to the space.
While at a theatre, I expect most people will remain in their seats until intermission, unless there’s an urgent call to use the rest room, while at a concert people are in constant motion, up and down the aisles, to get refreshments, use the bathroom, or just move around. This was a concert at a theatre where the music was mesmerizing enough to feel like a play, yet there was a steady stream of people walking up and down the concrete ramps.
Like a stadium, external and internal doors were marked with numbers, so we readily found our points of entrance. The usher seemed annoyed with us and told us we should have entered through a different door (one not marked on our ticket). Another usher guided us to seats behind the sound board, which was a lovely mistake that we soon discovered, but not before meeting Neil.
Sitting in what we thought were our seats, a very jolly young man was ushered to the seat in front of us. He was alone, wearing a baseball cap, sipping his beer with unmasked joy. He was clearly inebriated and extremely excited for the show to begin. His enthusiasm seemed over the top for this subdued band and generally quiet audience (though there was one person, near the end, I was certain was going to yell out “Free Bird”).
Neil seemed taken by Brian, asking him if he “cracked skulls for a living” and inquiring when he had his last haircut. Then he whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “soft speaking skull cracker.” I wasn’t sure he wasn’t tripping on acid or whether he was just a combination of drunk and pumped for a band he loves, but in any event, Neil was seen and heard. He will also be remembered. Neil did not show any disrespect during the show – in fact, after we moved to our rightful seats a section over, we scarcely knew he was there.
The stage was set for the members of Sigur Ros and the Wordless Orchestra. A slight haze served as a film which created a porous fourth wall. Anticipation in the audience created a different energetic barrier, lending a layer of mystery to the moment.
The music started and the only ambient sounds were faint footsteps of those moving through the theatre-arena. Seated patrons quietly received the melancholy music being offered. Highly skilled falsetto meandering riding the orchestral current took me away and soothed the edges.
I entered the space curious and with open ears. There’s something about a live show and the shared audience/artist experience that taps our interconnectedness and reminds us we’re alive.
From their first note, a lulling spell was cast over the house. Like an Italian opera, I was moved without understanding a word; another example of how deep our human connections run. The Wordless Orchestra skillfully held the lyrical, unique, powerful voice and stylings of Sigur Ros lead singer, Jón Þór "Jónsi" Birgisson.
Being in the room made all the difference. They played for two hours with one 20-minute break. If I was listening through my headphones, the soothing lullaby feeling would have sent me to dream land (and I expect it would be a vibrant dream). It wasn’t until midway through the second set that the vibe shifted into one where I my body naturally moved to the beat, reinvigorating my subtle energy.
The unearthly, mystical nature of Sigur Ros’ sound makes it a perfect listening companion to almost anything (including writing this piece). It becomes part of the air that turns to breath, returning something fundamental to its source.
Brian has, and continues to open my musical mind. Our most recent dates have included a hard-rock/punk show at a local venue (so fun, I was dancing the whole time – but probably would not choose to listen to any of the bands at home); Geese opening up for King Gizzard and the Wizard Lizard (they do every genre of music and are fucking awesome – I would absolutely listen to them by choice); and this Sigur Ros show, which landed lightly on my ears and heart. I’m so grateful that Brian moves me out of my musical comfort zones and challenges old thinking. Thank you, love!
Finally, and this is not about the music it’s about the antiquated ticket stub and what we trade for ease. Yes, it’s convenient to have our tickets on our phones, QR codes have changed the game in so many ways. It’s better for the environment and helps those of us who misplace things (among other benefits). For music collectors, we have traded that ease for the physical evidence of our first concert, favorite band, or record of our music biography. I don’t have them all, but I love seeing the stubs I’ve collected over the years, sometimes having forgotten that I’d seen a band (I saw Michael Jackson?!! Oh yeah!). They are tiny time capsules. Seeing the Grateful Dead in the 1980s & 90s, $18!!!
Do you feel this loss?
What have been some of your favorite concerts and shows? Please leaves reviews below!
Here is a YouTube link of a video that Brian took from the show we saw:
*From Wikipedia: Sigur Rós is an Icelandic post-rock band that formed in 1994 in Reykjavík. It comprises lead vocalist and guitarist Jón Þór "Jónsi" Birgisson, bassist Georg Hólm and keyboardist Kjartan Sveinsson.
Thanks for sharing your experience at the Met with us. I just downloaded them on my Spotify. I was attracted to listening because I was just in Iceland on a layover. I've got to get back there and experience more of that beautiful country and its people.