Múm Go Go Smear The Poison Ivy by: Kat Muscat Tue:18-Dec-07 Label: Fat Cat Year: 2007 WB rating 75 out of 100

It may sound corny, but every once in a while you stumble across something really special. Formed in 1997, Múm (pronounced “moom”) have recorded four official albums, finding and losing band members along the way, but retaining a vital thread of innovation and refreshing beauty that defines them.

Múm’s latest album is like listening to a child you’ve just realised is much smarter than you.  It is not really knowledge, but rather the clarity of their perception that gets you. Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy acknowledges the way things are without making concessions or compromises – and you get the impression it’s because they haven’t learnt how yet. The line-up has swollen to include some friends and long time associates of the band, Ólöf Arnalds, Eiríkur Orri Olafsson, Hildur Gudnadottir, Sigurlaug Gisladottir  and Samuli Kosminen, all of whom bring a strange assortment of instruments and ideas to the fore.

This is the soundtrack of a childhood without Playstations, iPods or Big Brother. It is an imaginative album that simultaneously expresses an unrefined awe of the world and doesn’t neglect its darker aspects. ‘If you break a kitten’s neck/you must shake its body and check/if it’s still alive or gone to sleep’, reminds me of a friend’s guilty admission that she repeatedly dropped her kitten until it got a blood nose (she had wanted to see it land on its feet). Such lyrics are proof that Múm are not a product of this current self-conscious, organic fad but something else more valuable.

Moving away from their ethereal electronica, Múm have embraced traditional and unconventional instruments while keeping the more ambient aspects of glitch. Sometimes the synthetic beats could just as easily be toy piano, in other songs a clear viola or trumpet line cuts and weaves its way through the melody. While some might see this as a betrayal of their original style, it seems silly to wish Múm to remain the same after being reduced from four to two of its core members - Gunnar Örn Tynes and Örvar Þóreyjarson Smárason. Throughout, Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy feels as though it could be simply skilled improvisation, had not the songs been so based in intense musical awareness. The piano is relentlessly beautiful on ‘Moon Pulls’ in a way that reminds you of the schoolyard expression ‘accidentally on purpose’. The different sound of this album is a result of the expected and unexpected working together - with each becoming complimentary to the other.

Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy is markedly more uplifting and disjointed than Múm’s previous releases. While the characteristic indecision still shines through on tracks like ‘A Little Bit, Sometimes’ there are others that will make you smile despite yourself. ‘They Made Frogs Smoke Til they Exploded’ is a busy ode to animal cruelty, spliced with the chanting of children; ‘Marmalade Fires’ could be interpreted as an anti-consumerism anthem – “We throw our bowls, our friendly tools/assist us here oh marmalade fires”. It seems that no matter how bluntly they put the lyrics nothing is ever heavy-handed due to the delicate delivery.

While some of these traits could be perceived as strengths, they can occasionally be difficult – as if Múm want to have their cake and eat it too. But to their credit Múm have retained their distinctive sound of refined naivety even though the majority of the songs are noticeably more structured and, perhaps, mature. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it does force you to throw away any fixed notion you’d managed to hold on to of what Múm are really about.

In a way, it shouldn’t really come as a surprise that the nine-year-old in the sandpit sees something you don’t. The colours and focus points are all different with young eyes and short legs. In Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy Múm have developed their understanding so that it not only strikes a chord but chimes as well. In the last decade they a have maintained a sound that is both precious and pristine which, despite the general hype, cannot be solely attributed to growing up in Iceland. Some fans who loved the band for Kristín Anna Valtýsdóttir's fragile vocals may be disappointed, but others will enjoy this more collective sound. It is difficult to hold onto your identity at the best of times. But even after this period of significant change, Múm have sustained an awareness and sense of self that ensures they will never lead the listener too far astray.