Review by Heather Phares
All too often, when a band loses core members, it's a bad sign -- and that goes double if the departing member is a vocalist. In Mum's case, however, paring down to just Gunnar Örn Tynes and Örvar Þóreyjarson Smárason opened an array of possibilities for Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy. Kristín Anna Valtýsdóttir's elfin vocals came to define Mum just as much, if not more, than the twinkling mix of electronics and indie-pop that surrounded her, and by the time of Summer Make Good, that sound -- which felt so fresh circa Yesterday Was Dramatic, Today Was OK -- seemed a litte predictable. For this album, Tynes and Smarason brought in an entirely new crew of musicians, including two vocalists, Hildur Gudnadottir and Mr. Silla. Adding just one new singer can alter a group's sound radically; with two new voices on Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy, the changes are dramatic -- but they're also more than just OK. Tynes and Smarason sound liberated from any expectations of what a Mum album should be, and they take the opportunity to stretch out and try some new approaches. The hazy, strange innocence of the band's previous work sounded like Mum was somehow able to commit the fever dreams of sickly children to tape; here, Mum's music is still sparkling and childlike, but it's also much brighter and livelier. "Blessed Brambles"' sprightly, ping-ponging beats and chanted boy-girl vocals make it clear that this is a different Mum right from the start, and the band spends the rest of Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy moving away from their old sound. Sometimes, they take baby steps: "Marmalade Fires"' gently rolling melody and distorted beats are quintessentially Mum, but the song is more structured and immediate than most of the band's other work. "These Eyes are Berries" could be from some lost, twisted children's album; its brass, glockenspiel and sing-along "la la la"s are undeniably cheery, but the sudden, ominous twists the song takes give the impression of dancing too close to the darkest part of an enchanted forest. Other times, Mum takes steps so big, they really should be called leaps. "Dancing Behind My Eyelids" is easily one of the band's most animated tracks, with a beat that sounds like a hyperactive typewriter and a melody as chilly and sweet as frosted snowflakes. "Moon Pulls," however, gets the honor of being Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy's most striking and unique song: Its gorgeous, contemplative melody and Mr. Silla's plaintive vocals make it more akin to Misery is a Butterfly-era Blonde Redhead than anything in Mum's catalog. All of the album's experimentation takes some getting used to -- as does its asymmetric tracklisting, which begins with full-fledged songs and tapers down to wordless interludes like "Rhubarbidoo"'s toy instrument fanfares. Some fans will miss Mum's wispier, bygone days, but those willing to give the band a chance to change and grow will welcome the chance to get to know them all over again.
Múm
Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy
[FatCat; 2007]
Rating: 5.7
The good news for Iceland's Múm is that they sound noticeably different on Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy, their first album following the departure of founding member and vocalist Kristín Anna Valtýsdóttir. Earlier this year, we heard her one-of-a-kind voice moving backwards in collaboration with her husband, Avey Tare of Animal Collective, on the tape-direction experiment Pullhair Rubeye. Now her former band returns, with several members of the now seven-strong band pitching in vocals, including male leads for the first time. The bad news is that, despite some encouraging changes, the band seems to be struggling to find a fresh point of view to go with their new line-up.
Múm still have a way with texture. The 95-second confection "Rhuubarbidoo" nicely blends horns and melodica with synthesized music box sounds. Strings and harp give "Marmalade Fires" a regal cast. "Winter (What We Never Were After All)" is close to Enya-style ethereality, with a small chorus of vocals singing wordlessly over a steady throb of distortion and light-streaked drone. To those who have followed the band's career from the beginning, Go Go continues to explore their distinctive sound world and finds (somewhat) interesting ways to integrate traditional instruments with electronics.
The best example of this comes with "Dancing Behind My Eyelids", released as a single earlier this year, which opens with a subtle synth pattern that combines percolating, underwater-sounding bass tones with a slight twinkle of bells. It's an instantly effective set-up reminiscent of their first album Yesterday Was Dramatic - Today Was OK, on which they managed to evoke a tangible sense of place on almost every track. When percussion and accordion fall in and the tempo increases, we find ourselves inside what is probably the best "pop tune" (though only of a sort) the band has written. The song has an appealingly dramatic sweep and delivers on the electronic folk ambitions they've hinted at from the beginning-- and best of all, the vocals even exist in service of the track.
"They Made Frogs Smoke 'Til They Exploded" is another effective hybrid, with its intentionally awkward, tumbling drum programming, blasts of harmonica, wordless kiddie vocals, and bright, 8-bit synths. Elsewhere, we hear bits of the currently fashionable Eastern European influence, perhaps carried over from the Storsveit Nix Noltes project, an Icelandic collective paying tribute to the music of Bulgaria that includes members of Múm.
Unfortunately, the advance songs we heard from Go Go are probably the two best tracks here. But while this is certainly not a great record, it probably has broader appeal. The last two Múm full-lengths seemed bent on a return to the womb through cloying titles ("The Island of Children's Children", "Don't Be Afraid, You Have Just Got Your Eyes Closed") and Valtýsdóttir's baby-like coo. The band didn't just reference the concerns of early childhood, they longed to inhabit them, to make the music sound like it came from that pre-pubescent place. While the lyrical concerns haven't really changed here, they come at them with an appealing sense of distance, allowing an easier "in," for whatever that's worth.
-Mark Richardson, September 24, 2007
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