There isn’t another band quite like Sigur Rós. The soaring, ethereal, majestic approach the group takes to their music elevates them beyond similar acts that have formed in the post-rock/post-classical/progressive movement. Sigur Rós doesn’t fit neatly into any of those categories – like their music, the group itself has a transcendent quality about it. Anyone who has seen a Sigur Rós music video or attended a show would likely concur, although most would be unable to put their finger on just exactly what that special something is.

Whatever the case, it’s clear that the band operates on a completely different plane than most – but it’s more than just the technical qualities of their music. Sigur Rós clearly takes a lot of pride in their work, but this isn’t what sets them apart. Musically, most of Sigur Rós’ work is not terribly innovative or experimental (gorgeous often, though.) Logic does not explain their appeal. Music theory does not explain their brilliance. Perhaps it is best to say Sigur Rós is an experience – an experience not easily forgotten.

Fortunately for those who have been unable to attend a Sigur Rós show, it is now possible to witness the grandeur on Heima, a two-disc set that uneasily combines elements of concert film, documentary and experimental film. Disc one of Heima, translated as At Home or Homeland, follows Sigur Rós’ summer 2006 tour in their native Iceland. After completing a worldwide tour, Sigur Rós came home to perform a series of free, unannounced concerts in locations as varied as an abandoned fish factory to a small community center to the massive Asbyrgi canyon. The shows were filmed, and the inspiration for Heima was born.

There’s something remarkably refreshing about the approach to this tour. The locales are humble, the arrangements are stripped down, the audience is casual. For a band as internationally famous as Sigur Rós, it’s nice to see them willing to give so freely the gift of music to their fellow Icelanders. The frills are missing, and if simplicity equals beauty, Sigur Rós put together one gorgeous tour.

The film functions best when it allows the simple beauty of the Icelandic countryside and Sigur Rós’ music to take over and completely envelop the viewer. This is the kind of film that deserves to be watched in a pitch-black room, with the sound turned up loud. This film needs your full attention – otherwise it easily becomes a repetitive exercise. The course of the film follows a pretty comfortable path: concert footage, countryside footage, interview footage, more concert footage. It’s a mistake to not give your full attention – either become engrossed or turn it off. There’s no middle ground.