Wondering Around

All of this widespread playing of StarCraft within recent days has caused me to get into a space phase. By a phase I mean one of those states where a certain something is one's main interest and the primary influence over many of the things that one does. In recognition of this I have been watching the BBC TV series Space, hosted by Sam Neill, that I have on video. It's a great series. I feel it really makes one appreciate our planet that we humans so often take for granted. At the same time it also draws one's attention to the fact that the planet is actually but a miniscule part of the Universe, serving to reinforce the odd feeling that Earth isn't ultimately all that there is to "life."

The other night, I was lying in bed watching Space whilst nursing my sunburn. Yes, I'm still suffering from it, even though it's been several weeks since it was inflicted upon me. Then I started thinking about how exactly I would have got my sunburn. The particular episode of Space that I was watching was about stars and how they are created. I ended up in a state where I was eerily conscious of the fact that our sun is a massive nuclear furnace and that, freakishly, the constant blaze of energy that it is producing is responsible for my injury. When any of us suffers a sunburn we are experiencing the side-effects of a faraway, monolithic nuclear reaction.

Some other interesting food for thought is that eventually, Earth won't actually be here any more. It will be destroyed by the sun as it grows ever-larger with age, and that's only if the surface of the Earth isn't rendered uninhabitable by petty war or an asteroid strike before that time comes. It is possible that humanity will not have spread forth substantially, from the Earth and the solar system in which it is located, by the time one of those events happens. This is due to the fact that to do so would be a very difficult task. It's likely that the first colonies on other worlds will only be made up of a few overly privileged (overly skilled if you want to put it that way) individuals, and that a number of them are likely to be distanced subtly, but nonetheless significantly, from the "original" human strain as a result of genetic modification.

So if it were to be the case that the human race, almost as we know it, was completely obliterated along with its homeworld planet Earth, what would this mean for the future of humanity in the Universe? And what would become of the vast numbers who had possibly moved onto some alternate, spiritual plane? It serves to boggle the mind that all traces of humanity and everything that it knew could have potentially been wiped off of the cosmic placard of the Universe, and yet our race could still very much be present in some other realm not of this Universe. Perversely, the thought almost crosses my mind that we could not in fact exist in such a state, without people being present in the physical Universe to believe in it. As far as the cosmos would be concerned, humanity would no longer be a part of it save for the physical energy derived from our bodies that would have been recycled back into the fabric of everything.

Here's some very good news that was broken yesterday on Hannah's sceneclog -- where you are probably likely to hear all hip music-related things first: the Icelandic progressive quartet Sigur Rós have, in seeming defiance of the preconceived expectations of me and undoubtedly many other people, announced that they are going to be playing a show in New Zealand next year on 17 April as a part of their international tour. It will be at the Saint James Theatre and I am already starting to imagine how absolutely mindblowing a show this is bound to be, enhanced by the great venue. I am somewhat ashamed to admit that one of my first thoughts after finding out about this was that it's going to sell out and I might be one of the unlucky individuals who doesn't manage to get a ticket. But then I stopped and realised that there is no way I'm ever going to let that happen.

I was thinking just the other day that I might not ever get to see one of my utmost favourite bands play a show in New Zealand, due primarily to the fact that either they've broken up or they're all too famous to come down here and receive the only minor profit that a New Zealand show would likely afford them. I had virtually got it into my head that Sigur Rós was one such band that was too big for the little country. However, as it turns out they really are a cult band that would not forsake their fans in this part of the world, a country whose inhabitants most likely have more in common with the Icelandic people than any other state Sigur Rós have toured outside of Scandinavia. I can't begin to articulate how thoroughly happy and grateful I am about this.

But there's another thing that has crossed my mind that I feel may be perceived as somewhat odd. Part of the sheer magic of Sigur Rós is all of the mystery that exists within, and behind, the immense apparent depth of the music. The band members try to minimise the numbers of interviews that they open themselves to, so as to maintain an air of anonymity, or at least more of an air of anonymity than the other, more posturing rock stars that are all over the place in contemporary music. Vocalist and guitarist Jónsi Birgisson once said that people living outside of Iceland experience the band's music on a much more pure level, because less lyrics understood means more is left to the imagination. In this light, could a Sigur Rós live performance have the potential to remove a lot of the mystery surrounding the outfit, and to consequently sully the celestial trip that is lying in bed in the dark whilst listening to Svefn-g-englar or Viðrar vel til loftárása? The last sentence was certainly one of a concerned nature, in recognition of the fact that one must never omit the small factors for the mere reason that they are small. For they could turn out to be much, much bigger. Ponder it.

Despite the fact that there is that odd irking feeling of concern within me, it goes without saying that we are very lucky to have this incredible band coming to New Zealand. It really is the best thing that I, at least, could have hoped for, with Sigur Rós being my absolute favourite contemporary band. For those who attend the show, it will undoubtedly be something that they never wish to forget. I think it is apparent already that this is a show that would be better enjoyed not drunk, or intoxicated by any other substance, but rather experienced in the purity that Sigur Rós themselves have always intended. It is the music that will take you away on the night of 17 April. No augmentation necessary. That is the sheer magic of Sigur Rós.