múm
History of Silence
Morr Music
Loud proclamations of múm’s return after a long absence would be out of character for the experimental Icelandic explorers. No flag-strewn parades, no blaring trumpets greeted múm upon re-emerging from self-imposed exile, bringing forth the breathtaking History of Silence, the indietronica trailblazers’ first full-length LP since 2013’s Smilewound and a lovely reaffirmation of their understated elegance and exacting artistry.
Quietly going about their business, múm spent two years rearranging and rebuilding History of Silence, their seventh studio album in all. Meeting again at the crossroads of electronic meditation and epic adventure but grounded in natural instrumentation — light acoustic guitar strum and crumbling piano breakdowns in different corridors, speaking in hushed tones through paper-thin walls — múm plays both sides beautifully and artfully, as always, embracing folk and classical traditions in digital dreams.
It’s hardly surprising that themes of distance and isolation thread through History of Silence, the group itself having been apart for so long. SOS distress calls come from whispery, fraught ballads “Mild at Heart” and “Avignon” that desperately long for connection — the latter more sweeping, slowly unfurling in the most affecting manner, with a slight, faraway, bird-like flutter, and the former fragile and empathetic. Light on its feet, for the most part, History of Silence is introduced by a wistful “Miss You Dance,” with its delicate ebbs and flows, orchestral swoons, lapping piano, and soft, snowy buoyancy. And yet, it walks with a heavy gait, quaking footfalls like airy bricks evaporating on impact, trudging ahead with a sad heart and confessing at the end, “Truth be told, I lied.”
Has a weight been lifted? It’s hard to tell, as “Kill the Light” follows with even more exposed intimacy that eventually gives way to open-hearted, synth-powered, cinematic grandeur and finishes with plinking loneliness. Among the more avant-garde pieces, “Our Love Is Distorting” is a warped waterfall of gently sprayed, trilling electronica that suddenly bursts open with kaleidoscopic radiance, whereas “A Dry Heart Needs no Winding” wanders across a dark and vast soundscape, its evolving alien terrain deserted except for a hidden cosmic aviary tweeting away playfully. Unassuming and vulnerable, the brilliantly conceived History of Silence is written by winners, although múm has no interest in colonizing anything. They’re just traveling through.
