Iceland’s folk music has to a large extent, been lost to history. In Ireland, or Scotland, Norway, Hungary or Bulgaria, it’s easy enough to find examples of those country’s folk songs to listen to. Sadly, this is not the case with Iceland. However, Iceland has done something different, that many countries have not managed to do. It has created modern styles of music that sound quintessentially Icelandic. So while all over the world you may find rock, hip-hop, metal, jazz, and often good examples of it, too often they will just sound like the American versions of these styles. Which isn’t to say it’s not good, but it doesn’t necessarily sound like the country it originated from. But what I love about modern Icelandic music is, when you hear it, you think to yourself, that sounds really Icelandic.
Though we could debate whether Summer Make Good still counts as modern Icelandic music, it was released 20 years ago this year after all. Maybe to younger people growing up in Iceland, this now sounds like old person music for old people. But anyway, let’s get into it.
The album opens with a very short track, just under a minute and a half long, called Hú Hviss – A Ship. You hear what does sound like the creaking of a ship, and the sounds of the wind. Then what sound like synths, both eerie and calming at the same time, make their appearance. Or are they synths? It’s not always easy to tell. That is one of the interesting ways Múm’s music throws you off balance.
Múm were formed in 1997 by Gunnar Örn Tynes and Örvar Þóreyjarson Smárason. Now keeping track of their membership requires some sort of flow chart, because Gunnar and Örvar are the only two who could be described as permanent members. With U2, it’s so much easier, you only have to remember four names, six if you want to memorize both the stage names and the birth names. That’s why my brain kind of gave up, this band is composed of, some people, and that’ll have to be enough.
So, are those sounds synths? I don’t know. They could be a lot of things. They could be synths, or they could be acoustic instruments put through effects pedals, or acoustic instruments that have been digitally manipulated in the studio, or they could be some instrument I’ve never heard of. Or maybe some combination of all of the above? And that’s why these songs sound so interesting. You’re not always sure what you’re hearing. You could listen to this album over and over again, and all of a sudden, on the twentieth listen, realize that there is an extremely weird and wonderful sound in the background, that you’ve never heard before.
And all of the tracks on this album tend to land in this weird middle ground between being a song, in the conventional sense, and being a soundscape. You can listen to them in either way, and they still work.
At the time of the album, Múm had one of the most unusual singers I have ever heard. Her name is Kristín Anna Vatltýsdóttir, also known as Kría Brekkan. In addition to being a singer she’s a multi-instrumentalist, I’m having a bit of trouble finding info on who played what on this album, but I happen to know that Kria Brekkan plays the accordion, the piano, and the guitar, and probably a few other instruments also.
And Kría’s voice has that, very hard to describe quality, where it is suitable for very calm, soothing music, but it’s also so very mournful. It’s a kind of a high pitched whisper.
You can hear this on the song, “The Ghosts You Draw On My Back”. This song can calm me down when I’m feeling anxious, as is the case with many of the songs on this album, but it also sounds so very sad. I’ve never heard anything like this kind of singing before or since. Except of course, from Kría’s twin sister Gyða, who has been a member of the band at various times.
“Will The Summer Make Good For All Our Sins”, is one of the most eerie songs I’ve ever heard. It is so quiet, but that just adds to its uneasy sound. The fact that you can only make out Kria’s lyrics from time to time, just adds to the feeling of discomfort. And it has you asking the whole time, what sins are being talked about? What is being confessed here? It’s disarming, it’s a bit uncomfortable, and it’s one of the best songs on the album.
“The Island Of Children’s Children” is probably the most adorable and joyful sounding song on the album. At least I think it is. It can be hard to make out those lyrics a lot of the time. Nevertheless, this song does make me feel a lot of joy, but I don’t know if that’s what I’m supposed to be feeling!
“Oh How The Boat Drifts”, is probably the closest thing to a conventional song on the album. Not that it’s in any way conventional, just it’s some way close to what we would call a normal song structure. It’s also got the closest to a sing-along quality, “Oh how the boat drifts, oooh how the tide shifts.” It’s got the emotional ambiguity that is typical of this album, but a trumpet enters the song and gives it a lot of joy.
“Small Deaths Are The Saddest” has a lot packed into only a minute and a half, despite being so very brief, it manages to go in a completely different musical direction than you though it would. Múm seem to be able to pack more music into one minute than other bands can pack into five minutes.
So, with Summer Make Good, I hear it as a joyful album. I hear it as a calming album. But the funny thing about it is, it’s also very creepy, indeed, there’s some songs on this that would work in the context of a horror movie. But I think that’s why it works, bring in too much joy, too much cuteness, and you get a type of song that is too syrupy, and too cheesy, and it can often be quite bland. So maybe Múm had a weird formula worked out, if you want to make joyful, peaceful music, make sure it’s just a little bit horrifying!
Ponderings Of An Autist 