Sigur Ros: Proof Music Is Subjective (Part 1 - Music As A Language)

Sigur Ros is probably the most “eclectic” band I listen to. Why do I call them that? Well, their songs are not only heavily orchestral, but have all sorts of sounds integrated into them, some of which easily span 10 minutes. Those 10 minutes are also structured very…loosely, let’s say. Their compositions can be categorized as those that are meant to be experienced more so than listened to. And, lastly, they hail from Iceland, and while they most often speak in their native tongue, the lead, Jonsi Birgisson, has also been known to sing in a made-up language he’s christened “Hopelandic” (oh yes, we will be touching on that.) So, when you take in all these factors, to a lot of people who especially only listen to mainstream music, yeah, Sigur Ros is weird. But they’re one of my all-time favourite bands. And it’s because their music is a comfort to me in a way that’s different than one might think; their music is just that to me: music. There are no lyrics for me to decipher, as I don’t speak Icelandic and actually rarely go to find the English translations. And it’s not because I feel particularly attached to any member of the band, so their presence brings no safety. It’s because Sigur Ros creates music that just is. And that’s hard to explain, but in this two-part series, I hope to break down the novelty and wonder of their music just as it is, explain why its difference to commercial music is such a blessing, and prove that what they’re creating is indeed music and that the definition of music itself, of what that means, is subjective. So, let’s start by connecting this extraordinary band to language…

Sigur Ros’s most obvious attribute, specifically to any native English speaker, is that they are not an English-speaking band (although it’s worth noting that Jonsi has released three albums as a solo artist, many of which are indeed written and sung in English). But, like I mentioned before, Islenska is not the only language they create in, as they’ve also created Vonlenska, or Hopelandic. According to good ol’ reliable Wikipedia, it’s been described as, “strings of meaningless syllables containing non-lexical vocables and phonemes…it uses the melodic and rhythmic elements of singing without the conceptual content of language.” To put it bluntly, it’s a bunch of gibberish that sounds good with melody. But they’ve adopted this as their own, unique only to them. In fact, all the lyrics on their third album () are sung in Hopelandic. While this might be a turn off for some people, especially those who highly value lyrics and their meaning in music, I urge any skeptics to listen to the melody of the first track Untitled #1 or Vaka beginning at 2:25 (click here for the video). I, personally, don’t speak a lick of Icelandic, but the odd phrase, woven with a memorable melody, will get stuck in my head and attach itself to me. I may find myself playing it back in my head or humming along with the phonetics and dialect vaguely recalled, even if I haven’t a clue of what is being said. Most times, I can’t even pronounce the title of the song and probably couldn’t call back any repeated word sung at me. So, when it came to Hopelandic, I’d never been able to understand any of it before, so I honestly didn’t notice the difference upon first listen. All I knew was that I was entranced by the melody, and that’s what spoke to me. It was the same Sigur Ros I always knew, just changed slightly. Just given more meaning and weight to the music itself, as now even those who were able to understand the lyrical meanings in Icelandic were alienated, cast out to rely only on instrumental interpretations. That includes the man who created them.

Despite their place of origin, I’d say Sigur Ros has had quite a bit of international success, most notably in the film and TV respects (which we’ll discuss in a later part). Artists and musicians who become globally known in other countries, specifically in those in which their language is not widely spoken, says a lot about their compositions as it’s proof that music does not need to rely on the boundaries of human language to be appreciated or meaningful. This point is proven further by the truly incredible popularity of Kpop. Look at leading group BTS, girl group Blackpink, and solo artists making their claim like Woodz and DPR Ian. While they often have some English lyrics sprinkled here and there (which simply seems to be consistent with the genre) their lyrics are majorly in Korean. However, taking BTS as a prime example, this hasn’t stopped the spread of the Kpop craze that’s taken over North America. The language barrier has little to no effect, as many listeners of all ages and backgrounds have grown to adore the 7-piece boy band to such an extent that it could be said they’re now the One Direction of this emerging generation. Their lyrics are still echoed back at concerts, even by those who might not understand them, and the members are adored, even if many have to turn on the closed captions of an interview to understand what their idols are saying. It’s the energy, the music itself, and in some cases, the visuals, that entrance people and lure them in. This widely goes the same for Sigur Ros, even if they are not on the same scale of commercial popularity.

This thing we call language is just a way for us to communicate with one another. It exists so that one person knows what the another is thinking, what they’re feeling, what they want, what they intend. It’s just a way of knowing. Knowing when someone’s angry, or when they’re in pain, or when they want to go somewhere else, or when they’re planning on acting on a fear, or inclination, or sporadic thought. That’s all it is. But, when we look back on Hopelandic, and we see the effect BTS has on all these young people who come from completely different backgrounds, and cultures, and experiences, and we even take my claim, for what it’s worth, that I don’t need to understand them to love them…It all just points to the idea that there need not be any human meaning to music. Because music is the language of emotion, and that’s ingrained in every stitch.

That’s also what we’re going to be delving into in Part 2…