Since Von and Agaetis Byrjun, Sigur Rós has become increasingly...well, poppy. That's not to say that they're yet ready for radio waves (thank God), but their once severely wistful and sorrow-inducing sound has significantly brightened up. On earlier albums, an icier Sigur Rós icier evoked images of dark and lonely mountainous terrain; now, their music personifies verdant expanses and sunny skies. Takk... had moments of euphoric folk rock and lovely patterns of twinkling chimes and bells; Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust carries on in the same gleeful spirit, as if drenched in pure golden sunlight. Of course, their instrumentation is precise, experimental, as well as free-flowing. It's just that their songs now seem to serve a different purpose.

"Gobbledigook" begins us on the path toward discovering the brighter side of Sigur Rós. Sounding like a combination of Animal Collective, Yes, and psychedlic folk-rock bands of the '60s, the song is one long and intense moment of joy and freedom, as collective voices scatter and become ingrained within abundant percussion. "Inní Mér Syngur Vitleysingur" is likewise joyful, short and catchy in a brimming and fruitful Polyphonic Spree fashion. "Festival," on the other hand, is both the album's longest track (at 9 minutes and 26 seconds) and it's most ambient, sounding very much like "Untitled 6" from ( ) and harking back to lengthy soundscapes of Sigur Rós' past. The song changes shape halfway through and expands in wide waves, taking on a multitude of instruments and forming a grand composition. Following this, the title track has a swift piano at the core of its warm melody and whimsical undulations.

"Ara Batur" also opens with a soft and peaceful piano, as John Thor Birgisson's instantly recognizable voice, fluttering and furtively emotive, carries us through Icelandic lyrics. The wonderful thing about Sigur Ros is that they can cross any language barriers because their music carries the song's emotional and cerebral weight without English-speaking listeners needing to comprehend or analyze the words. The perfect example of this ability occurs on ( ), where Birgisson sings made-up words from a fabricated language, yet the album manages to convey complex and relatable emotions, perhaps in an even more truthful and unadultered fashion. Regardless of literal "meaning," "Ara Batur" is majestic, like a long poem in musical form, opening up to include vast orchestral movements and sweeping choral voices. It becomes an almost spiritual experience. "Illgresi," on the other hand, is simple and plainly organic, with an acoustic guitar. The microphone picks up every slide on the guitar neck, and we, as listeners, feel closer than ever to the otherwise strange, distant, and often grandiose Sigur Rós.

-Amy Dupcak