It’s official: The Mann’s just-unveiled Skyline Stage is now the go-to concert venue when the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars and you and 5,000 of your closest friends want to see/hear widescreen, state-of-the-art indie-rock on the grass, under the stars, with yummy food trucks and ice-cold craft beers and a panoramic view of the emerald city skyline over your shoulder. That Sigur Ros should break the seal on this newly-minted venue is kinda like a teenage boy losing his virginity to a super model. Because sometimes — not often, but sometimes — fantasy manages to translate into reality and we all live happily ever after.
RELATED:Sigur Ros don’t sound like anyone else, but their luxuriously precise atmospherics are part of an independent spirited art-rock continuum that reaches back to the Cocteau Twins in the 1980s and on to contemporary fellow travelers like Radiohead and Bon Iver. And even though the band has been making music for a decade and a half, there’s still a strangeness to Sigur Ros’ otherworldly music which is part of what makes it so transporting. At the Mann, Jonsi did manage a few words in English: “This is our first show in four years. We are really enjoying ourselves. Thanks for coming.” When he sang, however, it was either in Icelandic or Vonlenska, the made up gibberish language also known as “Hopelandic.” The oddity of his enigmatic enunciations to the English speaking ear add to the aura of mystery, as the arrangements move from interludes suited to contemplative introspection to fanfares of emotional catharsis. Sample conversation at a Sigur Ros show: “Do you know what this song is called?,” asks the critic with notebook. “No,” answers the smiling man singing along to syllables that have no meaning to him. “But I love it.” MORE
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