This, is the essence of Vincent Moon’s La Blogotheque. A group at the height of their artistry and popularity playing one of the finest tracks off their excellent 2008 album in an upscale Paris restaurant.
Sigur Ros’s music has always been big; it transcends time and space and language barriers and though it feels too overwhelming for a tiny French bistro, they prove that their music fits into the tiniest nook of a physical space as well.
While we wait, we ask the group in vain to play a few other songs in the mean time—any song that doesn’t need the brushes. They decline.As John reminds us, they’ve never done anything like this before—they usually don’t perform acoustic. We just have to wait, and not add to the looming pressure of tonight’s huge concert.
Still waiting, we rummage around la Closerie. We chat with elegant old couples, we watch from afar as a fat businessman absentmindedly strokes the hair of a girl 20 years his junior, and we let ourselves be cradled by the incessant waltz of guys in vests running and pivoting with their plates filled to the brim.
Little by little the room empties, the remaining diners drag out the final moments of their lunch, and then the drumsticks arrive. The environment is tense, but they jump in. A few notes on the harmonium, and an incredible voice that it would have been a shame to exhaust. We don’t know if the sticks were essential. But in three minutes, our patience was repaid.