with a buzz in our ears

Yesterday was the Faithful Writer conference (which I'll write about later). I helped out with regos, gave a seminar with Karen and read some of my fiction to an appreciative crowd. But it was an exhausting nine and a half hours! Guan and I decided to chill out for a couple of hours before heading in to the Hordern to see Sigur Rós with Duncan.

M had made a delicious vegetable curry and welcomed me with a glass of wine. I lay on the couch trying to do my best impression of someone who cares about sport while Guan and M watched the Bledisloe Cup (I didn't do a very good job). We ate, drank some coffee, then Duncan joined us and we headed off.

The bus was full of carousers heading into the city. It was noisy and bright and I felt like I just wanted to curl up on the seat and go to sleep. But by the time we got into the Hordern and found our seats, I had revived somewhat (we had made the judgement call early on that after being at a conference all day we probably wouldn't be up to standing in a crowd for three hours...I'm glad we opted for the seats!). We caught the end of a set by Pivot, which I enjoyed mainly for the incredibly meaty drum sound and the excitement of just being there.

The music between acts was sort of floaty and ethereal, which was fine in some ways and in keeping with the music we were going to hear, but unfortunately for three very tired people it just made us feel a bit sleepy. "I wish we had some gummi bears," I said, and Guan dutifully produced half a bag of gummy dinosaurs. Perfect wish fulfilment!

The lights dimmed and the crowd roared as the four members of Sigur Rós walked onstage, dressed variously in frock coats, tails, and what looked like a boiler suit. I had had the strains of Svefn-g-englar running through my head all afternoon, so I grinned when the band came out and started with that song. I don't know the whole of their back catalogue - actually, I only really know Ágætis Byrjun and their latest, Með Suð Í Eyrum Við Spilum Endalaust - so much of the set wasn't hugely familiar to me, but that didn't seem to matter in terms of enjoying the music.

They painted amazing soundscapes with rollicking drums, cello-bowed guitar, drumstick-beaten bass, glockenspiel, vibraphone, piano, brass...a constant swirl and propulsion of sound with Jónsi Birgisson’s otherworldly voice floating and screeching and hovering over the top of it all.

"We'll need your help for this one," he said in his thick Icelandic accent towards the end of the show. "Can you clap along with us?" Then they launched into Gobbledigook, from their new album. The song has a childlike quality to it, with fast clapping and a 'la-la-la-la' refrain, but the most incredble energy in the relentless drumming. It has an almost yearning, impossible-joy feeling to it. The entire room seemed to be riding a wave of delight, as the lighting, which had been in sombre blues and greenish yellows up until that point, exploded into colour, and the brass players let off confetti cannons from either side of the stage. The crowd squealed like children. It reminded me so much of what happened at Bjork's concert that I wonder if it's something in their cultural makeup, this propensity for creating simple pleasures, for the joy of pure sound and shimmering light and fluttering bits of glittery paper falling through the air.

Með Suð Í Eyrum Við Spilum Endalaust translates as 'with a buzz in our ears we play endlessly'. At times, despite my tiredness, I wished it would just keep going and going. I wasn't the only one, judging by the way the 6000-strong audience screamed and stamped on the floor for more. The band did two encores, and ended with an almost humble bow, as at the end of a theatre show.

PS. Also, if you've ever wanted to know how to pronounce Icelandic words check this out.
PPS. If you want to be superior and pronounce the band's name correctly, it's "si-ur rose (the i is like the i in "hit". "rose" is said very quickly)". Roll those Rs!

Monday - Bjork

The gig is at the Waterfront, a fairly new venue in Belfast. Inside it's like a giant white shell, with an empty space in the middle for the pit, and seating raked up on tiers. The way it's been designed means you're quite close to the stage from anywhere in the room, and the acoustics are amazing. After raiding the merch stand, we climb up to our seats in time to catch the support act, Leila Arab. At first it seems weird to have a DJ set as a support act, but then realistically, nobody is going to live up to Bjork, and actually Leila's music is quite complementary. Her set is sparse and strange, with a roar like planes taking off. She pulls sound up from the depths, causing havoc and delighting in the chaos. She doesn't acknowledge the audience at all, and doesn't seem to care whether anyone listens or not. As the last of her set crashes through the room, she puts on her jacket, picks up her purse and her can of Coke and wanders offstage, as though she'd just been passing by and thought she'd spin a few discs.

The crowd is an interesting mix - grey heads and young punks and all the funky people I had suspected were hiding somewhere in Belfast. They're like vampires, you just don't see them during the day. But here they are, the magenta ponytails, the afros, the piercings, the brightly coloured tights and fishnets, the dreadlocks.

And then suddenly the lights go out and the stage is lit in eerie UV light. A brass band marches in, dressed in multicoloured clown suits with little flags sticking up at the back, blaring noise. Then the joyous chaos of Earth Intruders whips up and out skips a little pixie with bare feet and a gold dress, a grin on her face, tossing her black hair. And then, that voice. That heart-stopping voice that is at once child and woman and animal and faerie. I hear myself scream in delight.

The crowd laps it up, of course, hanging on her every syllable, squealing with every move she makes. Something as simple as throwing silver streamers out to the crowd as she prowls along the edge of the stage during Hunter has everyone oohing in childlike wonder. She ends every song with a sweet "Sinq you!" and you can't help but laugh.

The way she blends live sounds with beats and loops is genius. She is the eye of the storm, while the sounds thrum and pound and ricochet through the room and our bodies. She hollers, her voice unbound and effortlessly powerful; she isn't at all overwhelmed by the insane noise being generated by her band, but is in charge of it, is bigger than it.

She sings a couple of songs surrounded by a semi-circle of brass, her touch feather-light and yet deeply rooted in the earth. She teases out the emotion of each song, pulls us along with her, has us tiptoeing and creeping around the stage with her. And then suddenly the world explodes as Army of Me crashes in with beats, red lights, lasers and strobes that threaten to pull us apart and her voice soaring over the top of it all.

The setlist is pulled from throughout her back catalogue, not just the most recent stuff, yet everything sounds new and fresh. The mood is gradually ratcheted up till it hits a peak with Pluto and Hyperballad. It's like the most incredible rave, with everyone jumping in unison and the sound just pumping. And this little golden girl flits around the stage in the middle of it all, punching the sound with her tiny fists and flailing her hair in the air.


The stage is cleared and the house descends back into the purple UV light. The crowd is going crazy, screaming and stomping and clapping, and eventually the brass band skips back on, Bjork in their midst. She sings the sweet Oceania as her first encore, and then launches into Declare Independence, which is becoming her signature closer. Glitter cannons explode over the audience, and she is swirling in the midst of a silver cloud, shouting "Raise your flag!" The audience shouts back "Higher! Higher!" and together we're all whipped up into the most incredible fist-pumping frenzy.


Then with another "Sinq you! We rilly injoyed bein here!" she is gone. The house lights come up. Everything seems ordinary and flat and lifeless. But her noise is still ringing in my ears.

Monday - Belfast

I slept late - it's a holiday, after all. Bek and John were working so I was on my own. I was going to go into town but the public transport in Belvoir Park (pronounced Beaver Park, would you believe) is unreliable at best and I didn't really feel like catching a cab. So I mucked around on my computer for a while, then went for a walk in the gorgeous Belvoir Park forest. After getting over my initial feelings of trepidation ('Woman, 32, last seen walking into forest') I quite enjoyed the quiet and solitude.

But, of course, the main thing that Monday was for was seeing Bjork! Finally! I was trying not to be too excited about it because last time she cancelled and I was very disappointed. But as the time drew near, I couldn't help it. I got ready and Bek and John raced around after work to get ready and we shovelled down some Chinese food (which I promptly threw up, but you don't need to know about that...suffice it to say, there wasn't much point in getting ready early because I had to get changed again) and then we were off. Bek had to do John's hair in the car, and you can see that I might be a little excited:


I think Bjork needs a whole post to herself. Now all I have to do is work out how to write it.

tori, tori, quite con...trory

Saw Tori Amos at the Opera House last night, as part of her American Doll Posse tour. I have wanted to see her perform live for years, and although I haven't kept up with her last couple of albums, I still love the earlier ones and jumped at the chance when Brett and Em said they would get me a ticket for my birthday. It was an amazing concert, and she is one of the most fascinating performers I've ever seen, but the whole thing I found quite exhausting.

When I was absorbed and 'into' it, it was perfect, but there were times when I stepped back from it and found the whole thing quite absurd. The music was incredible - I still think she is an incredibly talented and accomplished musician, especially when she plays two pianos at the same time without looking at either, and she had a kick-arse band with her. But I found the disconnect would happen especially during songs I wasn't familiar with, and I realised it's because of her unique diction and tone when she sings; if it's not a studio album, the words are rendered virtually incomprehensible and unless you're a hard core fan, you won't get it. She's also still all about sexualising everything and being anti-God and that can be a bit...well, boring after a while.

She also didn't engage with the audience much - the only time she actually talked to us was at one point when she turned and talked to us to introduce the band, and everyone was just lapping it up. Maybe that's the thing; she just gives out a tiny little bit which keeps everyone screaming for more. But part of me felt that the audience didn't even need to be there; compared to musicians like Ani diFranco and Ben Folds who really feed on and play off the audience vibe, it was almost like Tori was a self-sufficient, self-contained unit that was occasionally surprised and amused to look up and see the Concert Hall full to the brim.

Anyway. It was a brilliant concert and a great (late) birthday present from Brett and Em. Here are the notes from my journal I scrawled in the bus on the way home:

She's totally nuts. I know it's partly the whole 'persona' thing, but really she's pretty insane. And everyone loves it. Screaming girls and gay men and dramatic postmoderns all being so unique and alternative, yet fulfilling a certain laughable stereotype. A sea of bright pink and red heads. Ironic nerd glasses and taffeta puffed sleeves.

And yet, when she comes out, we all clap and shriek. She's clad in yellow draped satin, rubber leggings and a black wig [this is the 'Pip' persona, pictured left]. She's serious and vicious and sexual. She has the most amazing voice.

After a set, she disappears for a costume change and comes back as 'herself', in a green spangled jumpsuit that makes her look like a lithe lizard. And her hair's back to her trademark red - though it's still a wig, still a persona.

She's playful and mocking and funny. She growls and purrs and croons and wails and it's beautiful.

But after a while the hyperbole is exhausting, so it's a relief when she slides in the 'T & Bo' set; Tori and her Bosendorfer, the piano that's like an extension of herself. She plays it and the synth without even looking, stretched between the two, as though she's not even controlling herself.

The crowd cheers for the old faves - and so do I - but I'm glad when it's time to go home.

[top photo is a dodgy one of the staging I took with my phone, the other two are from her official site, which also has more info about the whole 'American Doll Posse' tour and who her various personas are, if you're interested]