I want to go
to Iceland…No-I NEED to go to Iceland…
I tell that to people, friends mostly (though once in a while the random stranger
may find out as well), and they give me a weird look (especially if they are
a random stranger), tell me to that I should probably only go during the summer,
and then move on to other conversational topics (assuming that they just don't
walk away from me, deeming me too strange to waste their time with)…Once
in a while, someone asks me why, but most just assume that it has something
to do with the geology, or that it is me making a desperate plea for attention
(because, honestly, who really dreams of going to Iceland?)…
I have to admit, though, that while my first thoughts of an Icelandic adventure came because of a feature that I heard on This American Life (in which a writer tells of the Icelandic Government's reluctance to destroy certain geography for fear of upsetting trolls, gnomes, or some other sort of small man-like mythic creature), my obsession really begins with their music…
Not their traditional music, mind you (though I'm sure that it is great in its own ethnic way)-I mean the contemporary music--the rock & pop music that Iceland has been quietly exporting for the last two decades. I need to see the land that can inspire the frozen electronica of Gus Gus; the bizarre brilliance of Bjork; the human-sung whale-songs of Sigur Rós; and the strange modern rock of the Sugarcubes. I need to see the land where one's experiences can lead to the creation of all of this music, as well as that of my latest Icelandic discovery, Múm.
If Sigur Rós
is the cry of a glacier as it slowly realizes that, despite it efforts, old
age is setting in and it is beginning to melt, Múm is the cry of the
water as it drips from the edge of that glacier and gradually makes its journey
towards your favorite chíc Beverly Hills restaurant…Múm
is equal to Sigur Rós in its painful beauty, but have a sound all their
own. Where Sigur Rós is exhaustingly grandiose, Múm is much
closer to its English homophone-quiet and subdued, even playful, like a choice
whisper…
Múm's latest CD, Finally We Are No One, is about liminality, or rather,
the soundtrack to those ambiguous in-between spaces and blurred definitions,
spaces between peaceful and eerie, hope and desperation; their music is dark
without being evil, and innocent without being naive. They have crafted the
soundtrack to those gray-spaces that one encounters daily and those that one
can only imagine. Even the songs' titles express this liminality: "green
grass of tunnel," "the land between solar systems," and "don't
be afraid, you have just got your eyes closed" are only a few examples…
Finally… commences with "sleep/swim," and for the next hour, as you are immersed in their music, you are really are not sure which of the two actions you are doing, as distorted beats, effects-laden toy-pianos, horns, and their ethereal female voices float their way out of your speakers. Electronic beats swell and burst, sounding uncomfortably organic, as horns and voices float above them, sounding strangely electric. Each individual track has something for the listener to latch on, but also a million different sounds that make you wonder if you really should, but the tragic beauty of the CD can really only be perceived by listening to it as a whole (and not individual songs)...
I could go on for pages describing Múm's latest CD, finally we are no one, but rather than allowing me to subject you to that, just go stop by your favorite indie record store and pick it up, and you'll see what I mean…
The four that are Múm…Recognize anyone, Belle & Sebastian fans.
