Sigur Ros: Proof Music Is Subjective (Part 2 - Music As An Emotion)

This is the second part of a two-part series in which I use the Icelandic band Sigur Ros to prove that the definitive definition of “music” is subjective, so click here to read the first part (or else the point I keep alluding to may not make any sense).

In the last part, we came to the conclusion that our cookie-cutter languages don’t need to be incorporated into “real” music to make it impactful. I had concluded by saying that music is the language of emotion. Today, I want to pony off that pronouncement to definitively prove that the definition of music is subjective using a band that some may claim does not create music at all.

It’s needless to say that soundtracks and scores are implemented into film and TV for a reason; there’s a palpable layer of emotion that’s introduced, and it’s obvious when you watch the same scene from any piece of visual work with and without the accompaniment of sound. I wanted to use a particular clip I had found of Sigur Ros’s Sven-g-englar that was used in the film Beautiful Boy starring Timothee Chalamet and Steve Carell to support this. (As a side note, while doing my research I was slightly surprised to find that the track had also been used in an astonishing number of other films, many of them US based, including Leonardo di Caprio’s The 11th Hour.) I have to include a disclaimer though as my squeamish self became uncomfortable watching some particulars of the clip, and as it involves substance abuse, I feel it could be triggering for some people. If you’re up to it though, I’ve linked the clip here, but if not, let me give you the gist of it: We’re taken through multiple joyful scenes with the main character, Nic (Timothee Chalamet), that include a touching moment between him and his father, David (Steve Carrell). Music doesn’t become a focus until we witness Nic hiddenly indulge in his addiction while at his girlfriend’s house to have dinner with her family. Jonsi’s (Sigur Ros’s lead) tormented vocals pair perfectly with the anguish and shame splattered on Nic’s face in such an otherwise ordinary and homey scene. The soundtrack takes center stage once again during the climax, of both the song and the scene, where Nic is shown stumbling, incapacitated by his self-made concoction, on a dimly lit street at night. It’s as though the music becomes an audible representation of what the character’s feeling internally. Then it fades as Nic is back at his family’s home, joking with his younger siblings and David. With this, you forget about the ordeal that occurred only moments ago, just as you forget about the music as it has fully faded. Sound no longer taints what’s before us, but it still rings in the ears.

If music is the language of emotion, then melody is the script in which it’s written. I’d say that while Sigur Ros often leaves ample room for breaths of musical silence, creating atmospheric environments that let the mind wander, melody is one of their more remarkable strengths. Take an example from their sixth studio album Valtari and look at the third track, Varuo. One of the few in which the structure is most similar to our “traditional” setup of chorus, verse, chorus, bridge etc., Varuo has a sorrowful and soulful melody for the verse, and then a moving, ethereal, drawn-out melody for the chorus that echoes its title and is accompanied by strings. The skeleton of this song is built upon melody, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a feature that makes this song more favourable or generally accepted to be “music,” as opposed to a track like Vaoeldur off the same album. While obviously it holds melody and pieces of musical intelligence, it could be more easily described as an atmospheric track rather than a song. Still a piece of music, that cannot be denied. But it’s relaxed being, non-uniformity to commercial music, and simple state of existence might lead some to describe it as simply “a bunch of sounds” rather than “music.” But let’s now look at the third song off their debut album Agaetis Byrjun entitled Staralfur. The almost seven-minute track is dripping with melody from the start, playing with different phrases throughout, but the particular gem and the most striking melody is that beginning at 2:28. One could say this is the “chorus” of the song as it’s repeated (at the 4:35 mark), although without vocals the second time around, but that kind of allocation of such a term is always debatable with this band. It’s simply stunning, and memorable. I’ll often have it echo in my ears long after listening to it, and it’s what I emotionally grab onto. It’s the focal point, the climax, and with any piece of music, despite being unable to understand what’s being said, one can’t deny that this is music. Beautiful music, at that.

And that could very well be where I end this, feeling as though I have made my point that the music from this peculiar group has still made an impact all over the world through the weight of their compositions, and that it would be a ridiculous statement to say that what they create is anything other than music. However, I want to guide your attention to one more song, my favourite song, by Sigur Ros, and it’s called Dauoalogn. I have a profound emotional connection to this one, with a very personal meaning that in no way shape or form will I be divulging into in this format. But every time I listen to it, I’m taken back to certain experiences, thoughts, emotions, and in those approximate 6 minutes and 43 seconds, the song is mine. I exist in this otherworldliness that’s prompted only by this particular song. It’s music that I didn’t create, but I live vicariously through and that I absurdly come to believe now holds a piece of me, just as it now forever lies within me. And that feeling, what I just described, is the experience of music. It doesn’t matter how it’s experienced, whether that’s live, or streamed on a phone, or through the vibrations of an instrument as one strums its strings in the same pattern of the song they love. It doesn’t matter because it just is, infinitely, in any form. And as far as I’m concerned, anything that makes someone, even just one person, feel this, can be described as music.