It’s the sound of wordless beauty, of dark majesty and joy. You’re probably hearing the future of classical music being crafted here and now. When I listen to Sigur Rós, the hairs on my neck stand up. There’s a warm intimacy to the way many tracks start, with the delicate ticking and scratching of life. But like the slow start of a roller coaster, a vast cinematic groundswell of emotion can rise beneath you and steal your breath. Somewhere between celebration and mourning, the choruses are often chaotic, subsiding in slow motion leaving you dazed, like you swam to shore in a storm. This is music which climbs out of the speakers and goes places.