Sigur Rós' third album is, in many ways, an attempt to re-define the band's glacially sprawling sound after the breakthrough success of their previous album, Ágætis Byrjun, a lush, often string-drenched affair that garnered the band, among other things, their first significant exposure in Europe and America, which culminated in an opening slot on tour with Radiohead. Three years later, the cryptic ( ) appeared giving every indication Sigur Rós had no desire to chase mainstream Indie success (at least not yet). First, there is the title: parentheses surrounding empty space, suggesting not just the absence of a title, but absence as interlude, which, of course, hints at the music itself: silence as an interlude between notes and/or the note as an interlude between silences. Then there's the artwork, which is both lovely and noticeably free of all the liner material one usually expects with such lavish packaging, save for the band's website address. Musically, ( ) represents a more "stripped-down" approach relative to their previous album, trading in the strings (well, most of them), enveloping melodies, and recognizable song-structures for more atmospheric Post-Rock arrangements, an emphasis on guitars and instrumental loops, and a good (and welcome) dose of dissonance. Whereas Ágætis Byrjun allowed some warm textures and rays of light to intermingle with the glacial Sturm und Drang of the song arrangements, ( ) sustains a more funereal tone while avoiding the kind of emotional dynamics that made the previous album so affecting and in places irritatingly overwrought. As with the album itself, the songs comprising ( ) bear no titles; the effect of which is to render the songs unidentifiable except for their order and what differentiates them musically. On the opening track, things begin with a deep, somber, almost dissonant electronic hum, which lays the foundation for the basic melody that repeats, as if on a loop, throughout the entire song. Soon the electronic effect is mimicked by icy piano notes and Jon Thor Birgisson's highly-treated cooing vocals, thus creating a slow, dirge-like movement that is both achingly beautiful and hopelessly adrift. The sixth song features some lovely vocals by Birgisson backed by thumping percussion amidst a surprisingly spare arrangement until things build toward a dramatic crescendo of guitar chime and distortion. There is no denying that ( ) is not as accessible as Ágætis Byrjun; however, the album's darker inclinations lend it a different kind of emotional depth that makes it one of the more memorable recordings of the Post-Rock genre.
