Reykjavík Grapevine - 04.05.2012, Síða 26

26
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 5 — 2012
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from Reykjavík
Music | Reviews
Composer Sigurður Sævarsson’s new
album out, ‘Missa Pacis,’ blossoms
with harmonies for choir, organ,
cello, and percussion. I heard ‘Missa
Pacis’ in concert with the Hljómeyki
choir during the ‘Dark Music Days’
festival earlier this year; the piece was
performed at Neskirkja church under
dimly-lit altar lights, rows of candles,
and a perfectly-hushed audience.
Finally released as an album, the
mystical mood of the live performance
is faithfully recreated in recording.
‘Missa Pacis,’ or ‘Mass of Peace,’ is
composed of minimalist gestures
and haunting melodies, changing
and growing from one movement to
the next. ‘Kyrie’ begins the work, and
is one of the most striking pieces
on the album, a Requiem-like death
march. The ending of the joyful ‘Ho-
sanna’ movement sounds a little like
Beethoven meets Stravinsky, executed
as only an Icelander could do. The
percussion often takes the place of
a whole orchestra, using only large
tympani and bells.
If there were one thing that was
lacking in ‘Missa Pacis’ it is that the
instruments don’t get to show off their
full potential; I wanted a solo move-
ment for cello or some virtuosic play-
ing for the organist. But being a work
primarily for the choir, the instruments
often provide splashes of colour that
wake up a sombre chorus.
The highlight is the strikingly
beautiful sections of vocal writing, car-
rying the torch of the Icelandic choir
tradition that goes back centuries.
The Latin text throughout the work
is always clearly heard and under-
stood—very rare among works for a
larger ensemble. Sigurður invents
moments for voices that that shine like
bells, chiming in and then fading out
to a near-inaudible whisper. Best of
all, there are surprisingly hummable
melodies, especially in the ‘Sanctus’
and ‘Miserere.’ I found myself singing
sections of ‘Missa Pacis’ as I took a
walk outside, realizing that it’s not too
often that a Latin Mass gets stuck in
my head on the way to 10-11.

Missa Pacis is performed by Hljómeyki
chamber choir, Sigurður Halldórsson,
cello, Steingrímur Þórhallsson, organ,
and Frank Aarnink, percussion, con-
ducted by Magnús Ragnarsson.
- NATHAN HALL
Sigurður Sævarsson
Missa Pacis
www.sigurdursaevarsson.com
Restrained and lyrical beauty that
moves the spirit
(So you have no doubts about the
meaning of Hljómsveitin Ég’s fourth
album, ‘Ímynd fíflsins’ (“The Image Of
The Idiot”), singer Róbert Örn Hjálm-
týsson adorns the cover with the most
gormless, inbred, shit-eating-grin this
side of a country horse festival.
Because this album is about us all
being idiots—idiots that allow them-
selves to be dictated to by politicians,
media, and the Vatican (‘Sauðkindur’),
idiots that ruin the earth (‘Maðurinn’),
and idiots that allow themselves to
be swamped by crappy movies, porn,
sugar and Ritalin (‘Heimska’). Róbert
himself is more than willing to play the
idiot. Besides the front cover, he spells
his name with a backwards R, sings
“I admit that I am stupid myself” on
‘Heimska’, while “delaying” the master-
ing, “destroying” the photography, and
“complicating” the production design,
according to the credits.
But the mix of jokey irreverence
and earnest seriousness is an uneasy
alliance. As the album progresses, the
lyrical tone begins to resemble that of
Georg Bjarnfreðarson, ranting about
US imperialism, and the evils of fluo-
ride in the drinking water. He may be
right, but when someone starts ranting
with no underlying wit or sarcasm,
people tend to stop listening. Indeed,
Róbert’s on much surer ground when
he internalises his issues, in ‘Hjálp,’ for
instance, or when he’s light hearted in
‘Hugleiða.’
And this railing at modern life isn’t
really backed up by the music. In a
perfect example of “photocopier rock,”
Ég has produced a sound that could’ve
come from any journeyman psyche-
delic rock band in 1969. Spongy bass,
dampened drums and monofuzz gui-
tars accompany throwaway melodies
that sound dry and bereft of reverb. It
may look and sound like the real deal,
but there’s no real depth or power. It’s
merely paper-thin. Add to this Róbert’s
voice has a grating quality, especially
on the higher notes, which kind of puts
you off pursuing any further meaning
in the songs.
‘Ímynd fíflsins’ could’ve been an
epic album of a man’s inner rage at
the stupidity he sees around him every
day. If only they had better tunes to
back it up.
- BOB CLUNESS
Hljómsveitin Ég
Ímynd Fíflsins
gogoyoko.com/artist/eg
An angry idiot shouts at the
clouds while listening to The
Byrds...
www.listings.grapevine.is
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