Sigur Rós, Elin Ruth Sigvardsson & other hard-to-spell things

We just wrapped up putting together Paste's International Issue for August, which will be out in a couple of weeks (one of the problems with working at a long lead magazine is keeping up with which month I'm actually in). The idea behind the issue is that there's great music coming from all over the world. This week's picks continue that theme:


CD Pick of the Week
Sigur Rós - Med sud i eyrum vid spilum endalaust
One of the highlights of Bonnaroo, Iceland's Sigur Rós is no less impressive on album. For the first time, the band left their now-famous studio built into an old pool to record in Reykjavik, London, New York and Havana. Singer Jónsi Birgisson also steps out from behind his made-up Hopelandic to sing in Icelandic and even English on one track. While their previous albums always triggered within me an outrageous sense of comfort, Med also triggers joy. The quartet is downright playful to open the album with "Gobbledigook" and keeps it going with Zoloft-riddled xylophones on "inni mer syngur vitleysingur." It's early, but this may end up as my favorite Sigur Rós album.

New Discovery of the Week
Elin Ruth Sigvardsson
Thanks to reader Åsa Falk from Malmö, Sweden, for alerting me to Elin's music. She sent me a list of Scandinavian artists that included my favorite discovery from my trip to Oslo for the By:Larm festival earlier this year, Ida Maria, who I wrote about for the August issue. I figured if she was a fan of Ida I should give the others a listen, and I was glad I did. Elin falls in that familiar ground between singer/songwriter and pop, but she keeps it interesting with compelling lyrics, good melodies and light touches of odd sounds. Check out "How You Dug Your Own Grave."

Beer of the Week
Lindemans Pêche
I don't know how many times I've brought someone to a pub and they've claimed not to like beer. My response has always been to order a bottle of Lindemans Pêche. It's a Belgian lambic, meaning peaches are actually added after the fermentation process has begun. The result is a highly carbonated, very sweet beer whose taste has more in common with a malt beverage like Mike's Hard Lemonade or fruit-flavored soda—or even peach-flavored champagne—than beer. On a hot summer day, it's better than ice cold lemonade. Those not totally secure in their manhood should be wary of drinking this in public, but as I drive a sea-foam green Vespa, I've way past given up trying to defend my man-card. This past weekend at Trappeze, the wife of the owner claimed to not like beer. Now she can say she does.