seeing sigur ros cleaned months of apathy off of my soul. from the opening hum of glossoli i could taste hope on my lips. the unassuming 4 piece from iceland transported my imposing hipster persona to a place of forgotten innocence where single notes lit redemption like candles before the cross. to be transparent, my life has fallen into a garish routine. the job which only four months ago was celebrated as a blessing now seems endless, inane, and most dangerous of all: beneath me. i wake up late, stumble in tired, and numb my mind with endless noise from my stereo while aching for another paycheck. i see my customers as chores to be completed. after each week of this non-life, i enter into the weekend more exhausted than on monday morning: i sleep in late, spend money thoughtlessly, and avoid creativity like a mormon missionary. 
this post-college season which for years i had envisioned as a period of endless creativity and boldness has become a deformed animal which makes excuses, seeks comfort, and worships worthless idols with a cancerous conviction. yet god has always used music as a knife. slitting the wrists which throttle my throat, he allows me an undeserved breath not as a man on earth, but as a spirit in his presence. and sigur ros was the sharpest knife yet. their perfect noise reminded me of who i truly am. an artist. a believer in the power of hope. an advocate of my fellow man. not a slave to a pride which makes routine out of redemption: the quotidian out of the infinite. and that is why sigur ros are beautiful. not for their shows, their success, or their popularity. they are beautiful because they inspire others to stop forgetting who they truly are. so while aesthetically the concert was the most amazing i have ever experienced, it was far more profound than that. it was a holy moment.