I have just seen God and God looks a lot like Sigur Ros

A friend of mine, who I like to consider reasonably intelligent and well versed in the ways of music once told me, "Do not ever pass up the opportunity to see Sigur Ros live. They were the best show I've ever seen in my entire life."

That's a pretty tall order.

I had missed seeing them the last time they'd come to San Diego, but when I heard they would be touring for their new album, með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust, I would not make the same mistake twice.

I did not have a ticket to Sigur Ros. Did I mention this show was sold out?

Doors were set to open at 8pm. Forgetting how laborious taking the trolley could be, especially if you accidentally take the wrong line and end up at 18th and Imperial, I arrived ticketless to Copley Symphony Hall at about 8:50 p.m. I suppose the gods were in my favor that night, because in lieu of the usual hour long begging and scrounging for a ticket session, the second guy I asked happened to be stuck with two extra tickets, which he was desperate to be rid of for $20 a piece. The box office rate for these tickets was $40 + service fees, at the time of sale. When I mentioned to the gentleman that I only needed one, he stated he would sell one for $40, under the pretense that he didn't want to get stuck with one sole ticket. I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could even get one word out, he relented.

"Oh what the hell, take it," he moans, handing me the ticket. I gladly obliged.

I guess he figured at that point in the evening he'd rather have $20 than $0. Cool beans. The gods were definitely in my favor.

I slide right in to the music hall. The venue for this show was class all the way. We're talking elegant concert hall here; plush velvet seats, tall marble columns, intimacy and crystal clear sound. I grab myself a beer and land in my seat just as the curtain is rising. I have no idea what I am in for.

I don't fancy myself a Sigur Ros superfan. My first brush with Sigur Ros occured one late drunken night in college, when the adorable gay boy living in the dorm across from me showed me their music videos on his laptop. At the time I didn't know what to make of their orchestrated rock sound, and 10 minute long videos entailing a two little boys invloved a forbidden love tryst. Perhaps I was not ready for Sigur Ros at the time. Perhaps my tasted had not evolved enough by that point. Damn was that cute gay boy ahead of his time...

What Sigur Ros lacks in mobility they make up for in sound and cinematic quality. They seem to be the type of band that takes the picky fuckin' bitch approach to their sound check. I can imagine the hell they give the sound guys, the hours of fine tuning required before they render their approval. You better believe Sigur Ros makes sure their sound system is tighter than the ass of a seven-year-old. To accompany the music, they had a well timed cinematic display on the big screen behind them. We're talking images, colors, very non-linear, superbly effective in the ways of invoking emotion. The display of images was executed to perfection with the musical score. You heard it, you felt it, in its most pure form. The order of songs, movement, sound, couldn't have been executed more accurately.

I love a versatile band. And here you have it, Sigur Ros is a group of musicians readily capable of switching instruments, rotating their position on stage like a volleyball team. I mean really, have you even seen a man play the guitar with a violin wand? Perhaps I'm cramming myself up their asses here, but they've certainly earned it.

There were moments when the cinematography would switch from image display to hidden camera placement on instruments, so the audience would get a close look into one of the band members playing the xylophone or drums. This is always a tasty feature, as effectively demonstrated by Radiohead.

In some of the more climactic moments, the lead singer would begin to wail on his guitar with his violin wand, meanwhile belting out a single falsetto note for minutes upon minutes. The musical tempo drawn out into a long overture, the audience became overtaken by the sound reverberating throughout the hall. We never stood a chance. We tried to clap, we tried to shout, to express our gratitude and emotion to the immensity of it all, but no sound was heard. We were overpowered by the music. Just for that moment, we became mere molecules, floating, commingling with the musical notes in the air, amongst the pitch, the frequency, the wavelengths of ethereal sound.

Amazingly enough, it gets better. The entire duration of the show, the lead singer of the band had addressed the crowd in Icelandic, which no one understood, but was charming enough. Toward the end, he switched it to English, and requested that we all stand up, which we did quite willingly. Then they shift into an upbeat number, where three of what I presume were pre-chosen audience members, caravan onstage with drums strapped to their chests. They were instructed to beat to a single tempo (great idea) and that loudened everything up. Things started to get pretty festive, with the audience joining in by clapping in unison, when three other pre-chosen audience member join the stage with confetti poppers.

What happened next was nothing short of a New Year's Eve in New York confetti dropping extravaganza. Tons of confetti flew from the ceiling, hitting the crowd in waves. I felt like I was a five year old at Disneyland's street parade, in terms of the magical sensation it created. The confetti flew and flew, reaching a decent stretch of the music hall. Everyone's mouths were agape in wonderment, our hands outstretched in the air, as we reveled in the majesty that is Sigur Ros. I felt like a kid again. It was the sincerest and purest form of innocent happiness, evoked in little 'ol me, by little 'ol Sigur Ros.