Valtari, Gloria

When I saw the tour for this album in 2012, I recall a blog post or comment that described Sigur Rós' live performances as "an atmospheric pumpkin." I have been obsessed with that description ever since. I wish I could remember where exactly I read that. I saw the show for this tour at the Skyline Stage at the Mann Center, and it was the perfect environment: a cloudy summer evening where the sky over the Philly skyline turned from grey to pink to a velvet black.

Valtari is a mesmerizing album. It washes over you, strings and keys lingering and pooling in your chest before spreading out and encompassing you. This music builds an atmosphere of longing, tenderness, and ethereal beauty. It breaks my heart to listen to it. 

I was looking through my Facebook photo albums from the summer of 2012 to see if I wanted to include photos from that concert with my review (they are actually all so blurry, haha). The albums are full of pictures of street fairs and a trip to Central Park with my best friend, as well as beautiful Swiss Chard from the CSA I belonged to, and photos tracking the growth of a praying mantis that lived on my porch from about half an inch to full-grown. There are pictures of milkweed pods and Sphinx moths. Of spider webs, sunrises, and rooftops filled with friends holding PBR cans along with tambourines and guitars. Of the lampworking studio where I first learned how to shape molten glass with gravity, timing, and precise movements. And pictures of birds. I have so many pictures of birds from this time because I was working as a research assistant studying the fledgling and juvenile stages of the American Kestrel from their birth until dispersal.  

But the one picture that stood out to me, a picture that I think represents how this album feels, is of a Red-tailed Hawk soaring over a field. The picture is underexposed and too dark to represent the clear blue sky and fluffy clouds accurately. It shows freedom, darkness, peace, and work. It's all there. It's how this album feels to me. 

I know that not everyone will understand the appeal of a 54-minute album in a made-up language. You may even roll your eyes at the fact that the band refers to that language as "Hopelandic." But for those of us who resonate with this sound, it's beautiful. However, it is not my favorite Sigur Rós album, and I've been wondering how fair it is to compare it to other works from the band, as I usually don't have that depth of knowledge for the records we review here. Should it be looked at as a singular piece of art, part of a body of work, or compared to other albums by the same artist? I don't think there is a right answer. And for this review, I think I'll look at it alone, like that hawk gliding above a field.