Jónsi - Shiver
Written by Nathan Evans
Last year, I detailed in the KEYMAG review of Agaetis byrjun how Icelandic post-rock perpetrators Sigur Rós has created some of the most emotionally raucous music out there. Lately though, the band seems to have petered out, with half the band leaving since 2013, and the only recent releases being high-brow, low-key ambient and art projects. But when their frontman Jónsi announced his first solo album in 10 years back in June, it seemed to be teeing up the largest release in the Sigur Rós canon since 2013’s dark fantasy Kveikur.
Right off the bat, the collaborative names attached tell the story - Jónsi is looking for a significant change of pace. Executive production by PC Music founder and pioneer AG Cook; a reconvening with Julianna Berwick after featuring on her latest project Healing Is a Miracle; duets with Swede popstar Robyn and dream pop auteur Elizabeth Frazer. This is in no way an offspring of his parent band, and though there is a subtle adoption of the cold windrush of Kveikur, bringing in the mad scientist AG Cook fuses his songwriting with the deconstructed hyper-pop PC Music has built their name on. Shiver sees Jónsi trying to find beauty in a genre that’s been reserved for freakish fun, like searching for a diamond in a ball pit.
Not yet has there been a simulacrum of this glitch-pop sound in such an artful and cinematic context, and likewise, there hasn’t been a project involving Jónsi that subtracts the grand landscapes seen on Sigur Rós’ classic works. Rather, the album is contained inside what feels like an enclosed marble room, a space that houses a dichotomous mix of weightless bliss and sharp electrodes. The atmosphere is incredibly frosty, with visible condensation coming out of every instrument, particularly Jónsi’s double-tracked breath. Fittingly, ‘Exhale’ starts off the record, and displays his intentions in the initial few words, at first hitting the listener with his familiar adolescent vocals, but then letting them become infected by rough digitisation.
If you’re open to this cross-wiring of art-rock and glitch-pop, then Shiver’s protean nature allows one to quickly fall into the world of the record without bother. Save for the accommodating beginning, which slowly leads more electronics and fragmented vocal loops into play as you get further in, the album follows a path that throws up wide ocean waters, narrow river rapids, and sometimes a disarming combination of both. ‘Wildeye’ is the most violent left turn on the project, changing gear with chest-quaking kick drums and torrential furore that faces off against the cotton-soft, harp-friendly downtime.
That cobalt fizzing and sparking, together with the thespian vocals, work to transmit emotion onto every cut here. The two feature guests also pop in to provide another welcome twist in the tale; Robyn’s commanding falsetto on the experimental banger ‘Salt Licorice’, and Cocteau Twins’ Elizabeth Frazer’s stained-glass whispers underneath the majestic ‘Cannibal’ (which has one of the greatest moments of misheard lyrics in my lifetime. On this sweetly-strung ballad, when the actual lyric reads “chewing your carcass”, I always hear “chewing your carpet”, which vastly alters the tone of the song, let me tell you!). In both instances, it’s nice to have these other voices tag in and bring a good counter-balance to Jónsi on the record.
Clearly, the collaboration between him and Cook brought about a wellspring of ideas, as Shiver boldly asks for 52 minutes in total. Honestly, the last triplet feels like an unnecessary extra helping after the perfectly decent ending that ‘Hold’ could have been. As well-incorporated as ‘Swill’ onwards is, it does feel like one more circle-round after already feeling stuffed. Despite this, and though the pop direction will not be for everyone (ironically), Jónsi has come through with a series of sensory impulses that whisk the listener away under this steel blanket of cold intimacy.