Med sud I eyrum vid spilum endalaust

If you have heard of Sigur Ros, do yourself a favour and listen to them and start with this album. If you have heard of them and don't like them, you are an idiot or lying. This music begs to be at the very least appreciated a great deal. For me it is more, the music carries you along and makes you feel a certain way that you can't really identify. This is thier best, most accessible release yet and look forward to more.

Possibly the greatest album of this millennium. Sigur Ros continues to reinvent themselves and release music so beautiful it is 'ethereal' as they have often been pegged. There is no other band (and will be no other band) like this ever.

You have to hear this album to believe it. Sigur Ros gets better and better every time out. The emotional high they create is more lasting than any music out there today. They are the most under appreciated band of our time. The average person on the street wouldn't know who they are. Hopefully with this album, that will start to change.

This album sure starts well. Gobbledegook and track two (that's how much I dislike this album) were good songs. Unfortunately Rasputin's previewer only let me listen two the first three tracks so I got suckered into buying it. Every song after track two is the same song, over and over with glacial melodies, incredibly slow tempo, etc. etc. I've heard more emotionally stirring muzak. Do not buy this album thinking it is a pop record. Do not buy it thinking that it is interesting music. Buy it only if you are out of Enya albums to buy and you want Enya without hooks.

The fifth studio album from Iceland's supremely inventive dreamscapists is their poppiest outing to date.
A happy album from Sigur Rós sounds like an unlikely concept.
The band specialise in music that is about as sunny as an Arctic winter - vast tundras of sound, dark with melancholy and loneliness. So their fifth album comes as a surprise.
The brisk opener, "Gobbledigook", all jumped-up drums and manic vocals, sets the tone: its poppy energy crackles on through much of this collection.
But then along comes a song that changes everything. From innocuous beginnings - Jónsi Birgisson's fragile voice, a lone piano - "Ára Bátur" swells into an epic, swallowing a whole choir and the London Sinfonietta.
It is so ambitious and successful a piece of music that it threatens to overwhelm the surrounding tracks, making what came before seem frivolous and what follows, almost inconsequential.
No matter: for this one uplifting, goosebump-raising moment, it is worth buying the whole album.