For the last twenty-three years, Sigur Rós frontman Jón Þór Birgisson, better known as simply Jónsi, has traversed the deepest nearly every span of the human experience, from the glacial joy of Agaetis Byrjun to the isolated chill of Valtari to the dense grief of Kveikur to the bounding, pastoral joy of Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust. And that’s all without mentioning Sigur Rós’ more abstract works or the work of Jónsi & Alex, his ambient collaboration with his partner.
And while his first solo outing, Go, shared a lot of the acoustic, rambling mischievousness of his band’s Með suð while shying away from the amorphous, rolling ambiance of their earlier works, Shiver finds him indulging in his every instinct. He does not restrain himself from any of his tendencies toward atmosphere, preciousness, electronic weirdness, or joyful dance music. The result is an album that feels the most varied and comprehensive of anything he’s ever done.
Love ’em or hate ’em, there’s no denying that Radiohead is among the most celebrated outfits in musical history. Much of the talk of their work is centered around two of the five members—singer Thom Yorke and multi-instrumentalist and composer Johnny Greenwood.
When you’re exploring new music, occasionally you come across love-at-first-site records—albums that immediately latch themselves to your psyche when you first hear them. Then, there are slow burns—records that take a little more exploration, but fully envelop you in their sonic arms.
I’m not sure if there are many bands in the indiesphere with a more surprising career trajectory than Milwaukee’s Collections of Colonies of Bees.
