The Sugarcubes

For the Icelandic avant-pop rogues the Sugarcubes, paradox isn't just a state of mind; it's an
art form. A large part of their energy and allure comes from the power of juxtaposition:
teaming the sweet spectral coo of singer Björk Gudmundsdottir with the sour sing-Sprache
of Einar Örn; jazzing up dark impressionist verse with jittery dance-floor maneuvers;
writing love songs that equate romantic obsession with, among other things, indi... More >

They're as quirky as you thought they were, but no longer are their quirks strictly personal, which may help their disjointed musical effects impact on the rest of us. Björk's Freudian fantasies are subsumed in a not unfantastic adult sexuality, and she shares more of the stage with Einar, who plays madness to her empathic concern even when she's abandoning him to the encroaching ice. The end of the world interests them now that they've got a place in it: they face or face down their doom with a humor and affection that's sometimes fatalistic but never passive. In short, they're beginning to sound like a band with at least as much future as the rest of us--even a band that might make our future better. (Grade: B+)