July 22-28, 2004

music

Only the Lonely

Iceland's Múm reaches out.

by Brian Howard

Chas Darwin, that most famous of finch aficionados, had this theory about isolation: The more remote a place, he supposed, the more likely the species there would be unique. In 1836, when Darwin and his HMS Beagle landed in Australia, the theory was all but proven.

Iceland, an island nation burped up by volcanoes in the middle of the North Atlantic, is a pillar of isolation in its own right, and unlike its Southern Hemisphere counterpart, it has remained mostly untouched by the outside world. (For instance, studies are being done on the relative genetic homogeneity of the Icelandic population.)

As Darwin might have expected — had he the foresight to imagine the evolution of an underground music scene — the music that emanates from such a place, even in this age of unlimited interconnectivity, is distinctive. From The Sugarcubes to Sigur Rõs, the sounds of Iceland have been singular in their ability to communicate the feeling of being miles from anywhere.

Next in this speciation is a trio named Múm — pronounced "moom" — that has, over three stunning full-length albums, taken vocal-driven experimental electronica and, well, subjected it to Icelandification.

Listen to "Weeping Rock, Rock," from Múm's latest, the May release Summer Make Good (FatCat), with its droning undercurrents, bursts of static that feel like crashing waves, and Kristín Anna Valtysdõttir's pixie-esque vocals sounding part-chirp, part-coo, and try to feel shipwrecked, taunted by spirits and horribly alone. (And yes, it is officially requisite to liken Icelandic chanteuses to pixies, thank you.)

Or immerse yourself in the haunting "The Ghosts You Draw on My Back," where, Valtysdõttir sings diminutively, "the wind plays flute/ through the cellar door" and see if the hair on your arms doesn't stand on end. There's something about place in this music, a quality that transports the listener to a specific locale with a particular feel.

Perhaps it's because place is such an important part of Múm's writing and recording process. Summer Make Good is the second album the band has recorded at least partially in a lighthouse called Gardskagaviti (Icelandic for "hawk's lighthouse," Valtysdõttir says), which is only accessible by boat or helicopter. The group recorded its wonderful 2002 release Finally We Are No One there.

"It's just a really nice place we like to go in the summer, " explains Valtysdõttir on the phone from Iceland. "And we're not necessarily just writing. We're drawing or working or thinking or doing whatever. It's an isolated place. It makes us feel good."

The band formed in 1998, when Valtysdõttir and her twin sister Gyda, who has since left the group to continue cello studies, were acting in a college play called The Nature Opera and met Gunnar Örn Tynes and Örvar Thõreyjarson Smárason, who were performing the music. It helps explain Múm's knack for creating a setting with sound. (The distinctly Icelandic play The Nature Opera, Valtysdõttir says, "was about a guy who wanted to get people to go outside and look at the stars, but everyone was really busy doing things with their electricity, so he takes the electricity from the city." Later, "he's looking for a new word for love, because it's overused and doesn't have any meaning for him. … It's like a surreal circus that goes on in his mind.") For the purpose of getting away from it all to create, it would stand to reason that you can't get much more isolated than a lighthouse in western Iceland. But in actuality, Múm has been expanding its universe over the last couple of years. Touring the world will do that to you. "When we go on tour, we play a lot more concerts [than we are used to]," explains Valtysdõttir. "Before we went on tours, we'd play one concert in Iceland, and then the next time we'd play a concert, we would have to do something totally new. … You'd be playing for all the same people. When you're playing around in this environment in Iceland, it's all just your friends coming to see you, so you experiment a lot and play around."

Touring has opened the naturally experimental band to the experiments and ideas of others. They invited several friends, including American Adam Pierce of Mice Parade, in on the writing and recording sessions for Summer Make Good. The sessions also mark a distinct change for the group, whose prior efforts have been entirely recorded using computers and Pro Tools. Though the band has no set songwriting process to speak of, "we did know that for this album we wanted to record on tape machines," explains Valtysdõttir. "Many of the acoustic sounds are more natural. … We manipulated and cut them in the computer." The band's earlier works were digital marvels, so the modified process is the easiest explanation for the new album's visceral sound. On Summer Make Good, with its nautical themes, you can feel the sway of the ocean, hear a buoy in the distance. It's a bold step for the group and one that admittedly owes to a little cross-pollination. 'Cuz while isolation's cool, to survive, so the saying goes, you've got to adapt. And Múm seems up to the task.

Múm will perform on Fri., July 23, 8 p.m., $13, all ages, with Slowblow, at the First Unitarian Church sanctuary, 2125 Chestnut St., www.r5productions.com.