Heima means "at home".
It's a bit like being on trial,
playing in Iceland.
It's like, you know,
"What do they think?"
Kind of nervous, because it's friends
and family, you know, in the audience,
I think it's harder to play
for people you know.
I found it quite interesting
playing for the Iceland people,
because they're so judgmental.
We had been travelling
so much around the world
and wanted to come back
to Iceland
and make the last concerts
here in Iceland.
There used to be pop bands
who toured Iceland
and had some... you know...
people came together
and danced to the music,
but that's getting less and less.
It seemed like something
that we had to do
was to go around
and play the shows
in small towns
for just the people there.
These people are also the people
who back us up as well,
so it was really nice.
I guess that's sort of our idea,
to give back, in a way.
Space is what we have here,
in our personal life
and in the land as well.
Because it's a small community,
I think people are unconsciously
kind of aware
of giving you space.
So I think we kind of have to do that,
and I think it's a bit in our souls.
Next up is a band from Iceland
that has fans and critics
gushing about its elegant,
enigmatic sound.
Here to perform "Njsnavlin",
featured in "Vanilla Sky",
please welcome Sigur Rs!
I was very young. Yeah, I was 21.
And then all of a sudden, you had
record companies and publishers
and money and...
You know, all that stuff.
It was kind of...
It was a bit scary
and freaked me a bit out.
You're in a band,
but you're just doing business.
You're having meetings with lawyers
and things like that.
In a way, it's quite, like I say, exciting.
You think about the future,
all kinds of stuff.
At the same time, it's almost like
a desk job instead of making music.
The music business is left
overseas in a way.
We were really sceptical
about all this,
like doing a lot of interviews,
a lot of photo sessions
where you're posed,
all this stuff, all these typical things.
And if you deny that,
don't want to be part of it,
then people are,
"Oh! Why are you doing that?"
It's confusing.
Then they start to build up
some image that you're weird.
I'm just a normal person.
I like to be silly.
But we take our music seriously.
We work a lot on the music.
Maybe we work sometimes too much.
It takes a lot to make us happy,
you know,
with what we do.
When we meet, the four of us,
in some space,
with some instruments
and play together four as one,
we don't talk much, we just play
until something feels right,
some atmosphere comes to us,
and we just mould it and form it
until it feels like some whole,
like things just come to you.
When you travel, you play
in these crowded, big cities,
so it's really nice to come back here
to all the space in Iceland
and just to relax a little bit.
At first, we didn't have an idea
if people would come to the concerts,
so we imagined some places
being totally empty.
I was talking to local people
in these places,
and they were really happy to get
something going on in their village.
I think we got a lot of attention,
actually. I was kind of surprised.
But then it should get
a lot of attention, I think.
I mean, not a lot of people
have done that,
making concerts so easy
for people to be able to attend.
Halfway through, we saw
in the paper this long article
about how the band was giving back
and also it was really noble
because it's all free,
and all this effort
of giving these concerts
was joining the soul
of the Icelandic public,
so people had this great focus
on something so positive.
Everyone seemed really happy
and glad to be able
to come and see.
And people bringing
their whole family,
grandparents and grandchildren,
everyone in between,
it was really, really cosy.
A lot of people were just coming
for the happening, too, I think,
to some nice moment,
and people want to be a part of it.
I think that's as nice
as liking the music.
There's never been much planning
in the work we've done together.
Or in Sigur Rs in general,
there's not much planning.
So they taught us a lot
on how to do things
without speaking or planning,
just do.
It's just eight people
that work really well together.
This is one big family,
like sisters and brothers,
because you have
this close relationship,
but it's not really close, like stealing
your heart from your best friend.
That only happens
after a few drinks!
Pll, he's an artist,
and there are these landslides
over these flaky rocks.
He goes up and hits the stones,
and they produce a tone.
Then he makes this chromatic marimba
out of these rocks.
Amazing instrument,
and it's just rock.
Totally natural guy.
He's just like...
He just lives alone with his mother
in the countryside,
and just makes things all day,
carves in stone,
or like a rhubarb marimba,
made from old rhubarb.
Djpavk,
you see this big, old rusting ship
lying in this old factory that
was probably used for two years.
Then there was no more fish
and they closed them down.
Only two people live there,
all year round.
Total isolation.
It's like nothing there.
And before it was this village
with lots of activity
in the fish factory.
The fish went.
It was good to be able to bring life
into the place again
just for a short moment,
one night.
Iceland is a unique place
in a way
on this planet.
It's so strange
that people can think about it
as a money-making scheme.
We're not protecting it enough,
all these nice,
special things we have.
Like tearing down old houses
to build really...
- Ugly.
- In our opinion, ugly...
- Big.
- Big houses.
And maybe pretending to be
something we are not.
Most people divide
into two groups:
People that want to make
loads of money in a short time
and the people that think about
the long-term effect on Iceland.
Speaking of that, I'm mostly referring
to the big industry in Iceland
with all the aluminium factories
being built in Iceland.
We went up to this protest camp
at Snafell
where they were protesting the building
of the dam at Krahnjkar.
The place where the dam is
is kind of the biggest unspoilt
highland in Europe.
We wanted to show support
by going up there,
because they've sunk
all of this land
just to drive
some aluminium smelter.
When we came and saw the dam
and it was...
I think everybody was just
turned speechless,
because it was
such a humungous monster!
They'd brought up this small PA
and were gonna get electricity
from some generators.
And then we thought
we're actually here to protest
the building of a dam
to produce electricity,
so we thought it would be a good idea
to do it completely acoustically.
Exactly when we started playing,
the wind just went down.
It was really magical,
because it was meant
to happen that way,
and after the performance
the wind started coming again.
It can't be taken back.
I mean, it's flooded now.
And it's really sad.
In every small little village
in Iceland there's a choir.
Some say it might be because
of the lack of instruments,
but I don't really buy that.
I think there must have been
some instruments in the old days.
But it's very interesting for us
because we're learning
about things as well,
exploring them, like the rimur,
the old chanting style.
We met Steindr Andersen,
the guy we've worked with a little,
who is the head
of the rhyme society in Iceland,
just in a small room.
He has this deep voice and he started
to chant these rhymes for me,
and something connected inside me,
something like, "Whoa!"
It was warm and right,
or something,
so I was interested
in this tradition, this old shit.
It's just so beautiful, I think.
I really like the Sey?isfjr?ur
with the fog.
It was really nice,
and a strange feeling.
The mist was beautiful.
Really nice weather.
Slept in a Mongolian tent
in Sey?isfjr?ur.
It was really weird,
but it was fun.
Just the more we travel,
the more you appreciate
the world and Iceland, as well.
To travel the whole world
and then come back here. Wow!
It's kind of a safe haven
for us, Iceland.
We are left on our own here.
I think the sbyrgi show
was definitely...
...a bizarre show for all of us!
And it was so special for us
cos we...
I mean, we haven't played a proper
Sigur Rs/ Amiina show since then,
and who knows when we will,
so it was very emotional.
Very dramatic.
It was during a public holiday,
that usually during that weekend
people spread around the countryside
to camp,
but everyone was suddenly thinking,
"Yeah, are you going to make it
to the concert?"
In the end it was just packed!
Then I just realised it was the last,
at least for now.
We don't know what will happen,
but it was kind of a shock.
I don't think we maybe realised
what we were doing,
that it kind of became
a really big thing here,
so it was really nice.
And Klambratn, the Reykjavk
concert, was maybe the highlight,
because it was...
Everyone was there,
so it was great.
The show was good.
I start playing and I remember
the first two, three songs.
And then I sort of wake up
in the last song,
just before everything goes crazy.
I sort of wake up and think,
"Oh, the show is over!"
There is this kind of...
like a mood you get into,
you know, together,
doing the same thing.
A really nice feeling.
I think on stage, when everything
is how it should be,
like good sound
and everything feels right,
you just kind of float.
And it's the best feeling ever
to sing for people.
You don't know you're singing,
it's just totally empty headed,
you're just floating there.
I think Kjarri's grandmother,
she went to the concert
and thought it was really loud,
and then heard it was on TV, too.
Like, "It was on the TV!
Let's go home!
"If it's on TV, let's go home
and watch it on TV."
Then it was the end of the last song
and these crazy backdrops and stuff,
like really intense.
Then she thought something was wrong
with her TV and shut it off.
I think it's nice.