Rolling Stone magazine July 2002

Review by David Fricke.



Mum Are Finally Someone

Icelandic sound sculptors make their Manhattan debut

Founded as a duo in 1997 by sampler savants Orvar Smarason and Gunnar Orn Tynes, then doubled by the addition of the multi-instrumentalist twins Gyda and Kristin Anna Valtysdottir, the Icelandic band Mum are the colorful sound of enigma. They are an ambient techno group that operates almost entirely without overt beats yet generates atmospheres too vivid and tangible to be mere mood. Mum quietly, irresistibly, inhabit a no-band's land between the ancient and imminent, the organic and electronic, the head and feet.

The last was especially notable during their sold-out Manhattan debut July 26th at the Knitting Factory. No one actually danced, but instead, the hot, packed audience was all smiles, twitches and rapt attention, soaking in Smarason and Tynes' pastel electronics and mesmerized by the soft explosions of guitar, cello and live drums that framed Gyda and Kristin's hushed singing. In an interview last year, Smarason told me that his early, teenage fixation with programming began with the frosty dancescapes of the Aphex Twin. But Mum have evolved far beyond mere chillout, in concert and on their two exquisite albums, 2000's Yesterday Was Dramatic -- Today Is OK, and the brand new Finally We Are No One, out on the U.K. label Fat Cat. Mum make a glistening, articulate chamber music in which rhythm is vital but not invasive -- a subtle drug, not a blunt instrument.

Like their fellow Icelanders, Bjork and the band Sigur Ros, Mum are sensitive to the poetry of light and space. The first piece of the night ran for nearly fifteen minutes through a library of delicate changes: Chattering-insect rhythm clicks and the faint hum of an organ; single marimba notes dotting the low moan of a cello; the gently mounting drums of guest member Adam Pierce (from the band Mice Parade), putting just the right amount of surge into the suspense. In "Smell Memory," from the Yesterday album, the implied locomotion of chopped-up static and a chirping sequencer bloomed the golden stutter of a sampled hammer dulcimer. And Mum emphasized their gift for melody in the Finally single, "Green Grass of Tunnel"; the entire piece is a single ascending sequence decked out in counterpoint keyboards and female whisper.

At heart, Mum are really a pop group, building a gorgeous, sturdy music from sweet and tender materials. It's not that you can't dance to the results; a warm shiver of pleasure just seems more appropriate.



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