The seagull, what would the seagull think as it swoops and soars above a usually empty courtyard, now full of drunk pale indie kids cooking in the sunset listening to ice flowing lava-like silkily through glacial netherworlds. Read also: the prettiest music being made on earth right now…

Rewind. Last time DiS caught Sigur Rós it was dusk on the Other Stage at Glastonbury, just as it began to spit with the lightest of rains, it was beautiful. Whereas this is set in the grounds of the Inland Revenue only a few days after London’s ass was bit by suicide bombers. Helicopters sneak overhead. Silly rumours about a new direction toward the land of KoRn are mocked in the moments before the band come on stage.

The sun is setting and a Sunday afternoon of drinking has paid off. The first tears begin to trickle down the faces beside me as people begin to sit down, pretending they’ve got a headache or are sleepy. Or even shutting their eyes to take in that little bit more. The ushered excuses are not necessary. This is music that loses you for an hour.

All I remember are glimpses :
Jònsi at some point in the set begins to sing into his guitar pick ups.
Girls fill the back of the stage adding alsorts to the symphonies.
Planes make cloud trails in the sunset sky.
The Viking rowing oar-cum-violin bow grows longer and longer.
Fairies fly into the night sky and are reborn as angels.

And then it’s all over until the encore of ‘popplagið’ which is almost too much. Even the memory gives me goosebumps. Nothing tonight sounded like Korn and no noticeable morphing into a major label band, but it's still a lot like Smurfs or Trolls or Moomins or othersuch things we'll try to daydream, until the next time. What a night...

To my utter disbelief, loser emo kids™ sit to the side, moaning that this is boring... BORING? Are you really alive?

Setlist
intro
glósóli
ný batterí
svefn-g-englar
sæglópur
vaka
njósnavélin
sé lest
gong
andvari
olsen olsen
hafssól
popplagið