Sigur Ros work best when they're slippin outward to the stars and inward to the soul, never better embodied than by that Aegis Byrjun astral alien baby. Their debut's otherworldly timbres, ( )'s terrifying inversions - all that mystery made their cooing worth enduring.
Here's an album of Sigur Ros exposed to the light - on the first couple tracks it soars, sounding like the Polyphonic Spree keening from across the abyss of a good trip. But afterwards, we're just left with their music as it is. It challenges you to accept it for itself without its intrigue. 'Do you love me for who I really am?' it asks.
Not really. I mean, you're fine, but I don't know if this is really going anywhere between us 3/5
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