Icelandic musical alchemists Sigur Ros hit the capital on the back of their long awaited new album ‘Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust’ for one night only at the Central Hall in Westminster, just metres from the seat of government.

These fey thirty-somethings carry an air of excitement and expectation with them wherever they go and tonight's crowd are not disappointed.

There were five vast glowing orbs at the back of the Central Hall and a stage full of instruments in the middle. While the venue filled up, singer-songwriter (and trombonist in Sigur Ros) Helgi Jonsson took to the stage and strummed a few mediocre numbers with a fey frame and shy eyes, the best song being the penultimate one Dry Run taken from his Aska EP.

The lights dropped and the four lithe Skandinavian figures of Sigur Ros strode onto the stage – Drummer Orri sporting a novelty crown and frontman Jonsi, a black tuxedo jacket with red-piping and tassles.

They opened with 'Svefn-G-Englar' - the first (real) song from their second album Agaetis Byrjun – and the crowd was rapt, Jonsi’s vocals soaring through the space effortlessly.

For the second song they were joined on stage by a strong quartet of Icelandic maidens, and then, as the music inevitable climbed, out walked a marching brass band, all dressed in pure white band uniforms.

Before Gigwise had rubbed our eyes they were gone again. The brass band returned a couple of songs later, just in time for ‘that one from the advert’ (Hoppipolla) during which they let loose tubes of ticker tape into the audience to up the epic ante.

Jonsi, Georg, Orri and Kjartan switched instruments effortlessly throughout the gig Jonsi seeming happiest when he was bowing his guitar, and creating the volcanic climaxes they are so famous for.

Before long they had played 14 indecipherabley named songs and decided to get the crowd involved, “We want you to clap” said Jonsi, and clap we did as the whole ensemble took to the stage beating drums, singing ‘las’ and tonking xylophones. Two giant electric fans launched streams of ticker tape into the vast Central Hall, not stopping until the air was full of music AND paper.

After the finale the crowd whooped and hollered so that they couldn’t not come back. They did, and played two more glorious songs before leaving again. The crowd, though tired and emotionally drained after two hours of beauty, continued to whoop and holler.

They came back on again to play one last beautiful, soaring song, before throwing their arms round each other, bowing a low bow and leaving once more.

(by Harold Shiel)