With “Hoppípolla”, there was no such ambiguity. The track title translates as “hopping into puddles”. It’s about enjoyment for its own childish sake, liberated from the demands of meaning and purpose. The piano melody was the most saccharine and memorable thing the group had ever written, riding over lavishly applied strings and a drumbeat that emulated the elated pumping of fists. Birgisson’s voice predominantly stayed within a more familiar, ‘human’ pitch range; if the lyrics weren’t a swirl of Icelandic and Vonlenska, one could easily sing along. I don’t think I could name a more joyous and
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