There's no getting around it: Icelandic band Sigur Rós is utterly ridiculous. First, there's the language singer Jonsi often sings in: Vonlenska, or Hopelandic, a gibberish dialect consisting of mewls and coos. And then there's the blasted pretentiousness: The band named an album ( ), for Pete's sake. Looking like an extra escaped from the set of The Matrix, Jonsi and his band of stately rockers have been charitably referred to as Enya for hipsters or, more derisively, as Windham Hill mystic mood music for the post-rock set. But lest you think we're simply bashing, let's make it clear: Sigur Rós has made some of the most affecting music of the millennium, music that renders upwardly mobile 20-somethings a mess, tearing at their American Apparel deep-Vs and getting in touch with deep dark feelings, prompted to such emotional excavation by a fake language. When Sigur Rós last performed in Tempe, the band ended its set with a confetti cannon, and there wasn't a dry eye in the house, as we all howled along to Jonsi's amorphous cries. There's no denying that Sigur Rós is ridiculous, but there's also no denying that the band's ridiculously good.
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