ICE men; They come from Iceland and sing in their own special

Sunday Herald, The, Feb 9, 2003 by Graeme Virtue

WHAT do I have in common with Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise? Clue: it's not a phenomenally-successful Hollywood acting career or easy-to- manage hair. Me, Brad and Tom (and Beck, Gillian Anderson and David Bowie too) are all big fans of Sigur Rs: four skinny young men from Iceland who create meandering, lachrymose soundscapes that don't have proper lyrics - singer Jon Por Birgisson sings in a nonsense language he calls "Hopelandish" - and sometimes don't even have proper titles. Their last album was called ( ).

Quite how this unassuming foursome came to be so popular among A- list celebrities is hard to divine (although cynics might suggest that after some enthusiastic patronage from the much-revered Thom Yorke of Radiohead, Sigur Rs - it translates as "triumphant rose" - became an unassailably cool name to drop in interviews). But it's still a pretty life-affirming bit of trivia. You figure if these super-rich celebrities can connect with the meandering sonic voyages Sigur Rs have made their cathartic trademark, maybe they're not all vacuous, hateful, narcissistic mannequins after all. And having high- profile cheerleaders also helps the band's profile, because in interview they are notoriously circumspect.

"When we first started the band we didn't have any ambition," sighs bassist Georg Holm, when asked to consider their mushrooming success. "We didn't have any ambition for anything, except writing music. So we kind of take things as they come along. We don't expect anything and we're never disappointed with anything."

Holm's English is excellent, but there's still a slight translation delay to his responses that can make it seem as if we're speaking by satellite phone. He selects his words carefully and proffers short, sharp answers where other young bands might blather on for ages. He and his girlfriend have recently relocated to Spain, he explains, while his bandmates - singer Birgisson, keyboardist Kjartan Sveinsson and drummer Orri Pall Dyrason - still reside in Iceland. Not that they spend much time at home.

"When your job is everywhere anyway, it doesn't matter where you live," he says. "We're always touring, so we're always together anyway."

Their forthcoming tour - which kicks off in Glasgow this week - sees them visit most of Europe, before heading off to Japan and Australia. For many audiences, it will be the first chance to hear material from ( ), which features eight (untitled) tracks of lapping guitar sounds, spiralling piano, drone drumming and Birgisson's distinctive keening vocals. It's an astonishing record, but one that requires pretty close attention. The lack of titles also makes it tricky to discuss with your mates.

"Rather than just having music as a background thing, you have to sit down and listen to it, you do have to take part in it," says Holm. "That was completely the concept of it."

But why no titles? Isn't that a little pretentious?

"They had working titles," he says, but then immediately clams up. Luckily, some of the song names can be found on the internet, on one of the dozen or so fiercely devotional Sigur Rs fansites (the first track, soon to released as a single, is apparently nicknamed Vaka after Dyrason's daughter). But surfing these webpages, there's an overwhelming atmosphere of hallowed reverence which can be slightly suffocating; the band are portrayed as fragile, artistic souls who would shatter if you sneezed near them. Holm cautiously agrees that perhaps some people take the band a little too seriously.

"You meet quite a lot of fanatic people [sic] which is very strange, to say the least. I don't really understand them, in a way. But then again you meet a lot of people who just enjoy the music. Which is quite nice."

Has he ever found himself in a similar mindset - been so into a band or musician that he wanted to find out everything about them?

"I don't think so," he replies, then ponders for a bit. "I think the only band I was on the verge of being fanatical about was Nirvana, actually."

Was Kurt Cobain an influence on Sigur Rs?

"What we look for is inspiration in new ground," he says. "Find inspiration in yourself rather than looking at someone else and copying it." Later, though, Holm will admit that Leonard Cohen inspired him to pick up a guitar in the first place, "but I can't really say that I make music like him."

At a gig at the Royal Festival Hall in London last year, Sigur Rs used a giant stone marimba that wouldn't have looked out of place in an episode of The Flintstones. Is it fair to say that the band have a sense of humour?

"I think it's probably more sarcasm, darker humour," admits Holm. "Maybe in Scotland and Ireland you would understand what I mean by a darker sense of humour. We're definitely not serious. We take our music very seriously, but that doesn't mean we can't make fun of it." He chuckles. "We make fun of it all the time."

Even though their music is beautifully ethereal, even though they're the best thing about a Tom Cruise movie (their epic Svefn-G- Englar soundtracks a key scene in Vanilla Sky), even though their album Agaetis Byrjun was recently voted Album Of The Century (in Iceland), even if they do sing in a made-up language, Sigur Rs appear to have remained remarkably down-to-earth.