It is quite a journey – figuratively as much as literally – from the canyons of Manhattan to the ash-cloud strewn interior of Iceland. But it’s a distance Sigur Ros pianist Kjartan Sveinsson will attempt to breach when he comes to Cork as a headline composer at the Reich Effect, a five-day celebration of the life and repertoire of Steve Reich, the New York-born dean of modern classical music who turns 75 this year.

If you’re not au fait with the Reich repertoire, it applies a surrealist gloss to Philip Glass style minimalist, often to profoundly moving effect – we challenge you to listen to Reich’s Different Trains all the way through without welling up.
“There is a meditative feeling to his music,” Kjartan enthuses. “It’s very nice, in that you can listen to it without listening to it. Of course it also stands up if you concentrate very hard on it. I would say, however, that all music can be an influence, whether it is modern classical or a Britney Spears drum beat.”
Rumours have swirled lately that Sigur Ros were on the verge of a breakup. The catalyst was last year’s solo record from singer Jonsi Birgisson. Both more ethereal and more accessible than the songs he writes at his day job, Go was a surprise hit, prompting suggestions that the falsetto-voiced frontman might consider a full fledged, go-it-alone- career.
So much for idle speculation. If anything, things have never been tighter in the Sigur Ros camp. Far from gazing on enviously as Jonsi conquered the world (or at least the indie-schmindie portion) on his own, the rest of the group were delighted for him. Moreover, they knew that an extended break would be to the band’s benefit. When you’ve been putting out records for over a decade, a period apart can be the best thing in the world.
“Everybody really liked it,” says Kjartan. “It’s a healthy thing to do – to work in a different environment every once and a while. It helps you get your energy back to try new stuff. We’ve just started on our new album so it’s a little early to see how it shapes up. Sometimes it takes a while to get started.”
When Sigur Ros’ last record Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust (Icelandic for ‘With A Buzz In Our Ears We Play Endlessly’) came out in 2008, Iceland was one of the wealthiest country’s in the world, a poster-child for globalism with a banking sector proudly punching above its weight. Since then, the house of cards has crashed violently to earth, with results that make Ireland’s economic unravelling seem almost mild.
Speaking to this journalist last year, Jonsi described how, at the height of the crisis, he’d left his house for the first time in weeks to participate in Reykjavik’s already semi-legendary pots and pans revolution, wherein ordinary citizens marched on parliament, venting their displeasure with the mismanagement of the economy my banging on kitchen utensils. It was, he says,one of the few occasions in living memory that Iceland had chose to express its displeasure in public rather than grumbling into its sardines at home.
For all the convulsions wracking the nation, it is probably too early to judge the recession’s impact on Sigur Ros’ songwriting, says Kjartan . Yes, it’s part of the background noise. Who is to say, however, how politics or economic influence the band’s work?
“I don’t think it effects the music directly,” he proffers. “It might effect us in a way that we’re not fully aware of. It’s one of those things, isn’t it?”
Though Sigur Ros command a loyal fanbase, it’s fair to say not everyone has taken a tumble for their ethereal charms. Among the post-rock community, especially they’ve proved quite divisive. For every über-devotee who swoons at their feet you have someone like cult instrumental outfit Mogwai who’ve loudly disparaged them as purveyors of candyfloss for the Lord Of The Rings bridge.
It is true, allows Kjartan, that early in their career it annoyed them when critics evoked elves and the majesty of the Icelandic countryside to convey the earthy sweep of their songbook. However, he acknowledges too that they didn’t do themselves any favours by performing against video footage of glaciers and volcanos.
“At the start, we were very proud of where we came from. Now it doesn’t matter so much. Of course, we will always have this Iceland connection which is okay and probably helped us a bit. Elves and glaciers – it’s such an easy connection to make. However, if you listen to all the other music from Iceland, it doesn’t have that quality at all.”
A few years ago, a cosy chat with Sigur Ros’ pianist would have been unimaginable. For the first ten years of their existence, the group refused straight out to give interviews (the one or two they were cajoled into were excruciating exercises in journalist-torture). But they’ve since mellowed and have dropped their objections to consorting with the press. Sometimes admits Kjartan they even enjoy themselves.
“Back in the day there was a lot of insecurity. All these people asking you questions – we didn’t know how to answer. In some ways we still don’t know how to answer. But we get away with it now. It can be interesting. It helps you realise what you are doing. Somebody is putting pressure on you, asking you things you haven’t really thought about. It makes you analyse what you are doing.”