Sigur R-s' ( ) rocks

There are about a bazillion ways I could start this review.

I could've rambled on about how they "neglected" to put any lyrics or credits into the booklet, instead opting to leave it blank for the listener to write what they want. Or that the official lyrics don't exist yet. And it'll stay that way until submissions of personal interpretations are received by the band's Web site, and someone somewhere inputs them all into a database and picks out the most common words and phrases, which will be adopted as the official lyrics.

I could say that it seems pretentious for Sigur R-s to release an untitled album that can at best be referred to as ( ), though that does pretty accurately describe the two symbols on the cover. Or I could say that it's even more pretentious that they didn't bother to give the songs any names either. I could say that I now understand how George W. feels. There is no way I could describe this album without using made-up words. Pretentiousnessosity almost describes how full Sigur Ros are of themselves. But on the other hand, this latest release of theirs is so full of Beautifitude that I can't blame them.

Don't expect Agaetis Byrjun 2. This isn't it, and I doubt that Sigur R-s would ever want to record that, even if they could. As much of a departure as that amazing 1999 album (only released in the states last year) was from 1997's more electronically-hinted-but-not-electronic Von, so is ( ) worlds away from Agaetis Byrjun. For one, it isn't nearly as melodramatic. While there are plenty of climactic crescendos for all you crescendo-loving freaks out there (myself included), the slow pretty parts really steal the show. Not to mention the simply fantastic instrumentalism. If that album were the soundtrack to that great adventure dream that we all know as The Never Ending Story, then this is the soundtrack to the dreams we all have that would be impossible to make into movies even with all of Jim Henson's muppetry magic.

Jon Thor Birgisson's vocals aren't the distorted, alien cries that graced Agaetis Byrjun. Apparently he doesn't feel the need to be from another world anymore, as his made-up Hopelandic language sounds more earthly than ever. That's not to say that the vocals aren't heavenly as usual, but this is a voice you hear in your dreams, not in a sci-fi movie. It's hard to address specific moments without the benefit of track names or comprehensible lyrics, but something that stuck out enough in my mind to warrant checking when it took place is the final half-minute of the seventh track. Check it out. It might very well be the best 30 seconds you'll have heard all year.

Birgisson's vocals, coupled with the amazing textures and melodies that flow through the album, present me with the greatest temptation to say that Sigur R-s have finally mastered the art of music. But I won't, for two reasons. Firstly, I don't want to hurt Radiohead's feelings. And secondly, I know that these Icelandic rock gods are going to make another album. They just have to.