múm at Carnegie Hall

You wouldn’t imagine an Icelandic electronica band like múm playing on a fancy stage at a classical music concert hall. They seem like the type to hold more intimate concerts at small venues, due to the improvisational nature of their music and the fact that their music demands serenity. So upon hearing that they would be performing at the renowned Carnegie Hall, I was surprised.

múm is an experimental post-rock band from Iceland that has a cult following in America. I first heard their music two years ago on the radio and was immediately enchanted by the synth beats and unexpected electronic undercurrents. The music had an ethereal iciness to it, perhaps due to the band’s Scandinavian origins.

It was lightly drizzling the night of the concert, but many fans still showed up at Carnegie Hall for the late-night show. Abruptly, without any opening words, the theater lights dimmed, followed by all of the band members quickly appearing on stage, and the concert began. The entire venue was engulfed by breathy vocals, electronic glitches, metallic drums, rippling beats, and the nostalgic lamenting melodies of the pianica. Before seeing the band live, I couldn’t imagine how these epic sounds could be produced by human beings and simple instruments.

múm opened the performance with “The Land Between Solar Systems,” one of the older songs from their 2002 album “Finally We Are No One,” which took a more melodic and pop approach compared to their previous albums. While the lyrics suggest something darker (“There's that fear again coming through the grass / Deeper it goes singing a song”), the melody is warm and possesses a childish naïveté. Sweet and airy, the lead singers’ voices harmonized well with the electronic beats and acoustic instruments. Though the song was 11 minutes long, every second of it felt new and full of surprises. múm’s music is textural and soft, and that quality translated onstage in new ways, like the pouring water into metal pans.

The laconic band then played some of their more popular tracks, such as “Green Grass of Tunnel,” “Slow Down,” “The Last Shapes of Never,” “The Colorful Stabwound,” and “Toothwheels.” Though no one in the audience sang along, their delighted facial expressions showed that they were familiar with the songs. In contrast, the band members swayed softly to the music, as if intoxicated by their own magical sound. Even though the venue was large, the band members interacted frequently with each other onstage. They spoke to each other in hushed voices and chuckled quietly when they couldn’t agree on which song to play next. They switched effortlessly between cello, keyboard, synthesizer, drums, pianica, and acoustic guitar between almost every song. The audience watched closely when it happened, silent and respectful. The entire performance was oddly relaxed compared to the usual formality of a huge concert hall.

The live performance was rawer and more honest than the stereo version, thus making it a whole new experience. The somewhat improvisational nature of múm’s music was highlighted onstage; the tunes were sprinkled with spontaneous, organic sounds like whistling and water spilling. The songs received explosive rounds of applause as they slowly faded out, the synth beats rippling through the spacious concert hall. I felt like I was floating through a void, engulfed by the bittersweet lullaby.

múm ended the night with a less popular second encore, “The Island of Children’s Children.” The song had folky elements to it, yet felt strangely otherworldly—the beats evoked vivid imagery in my mind such as flowing streams and pulsating solar systems. As the soft vocals slowly quieted down, the audience was still immersed in a spacey Icelandic dream. After several humble low bows, múm quickly disappeared behind the stage as the stage lights dimmed, adding another surreal element to the night, as if all that magic never happened.

For me, the entire performance was a nostalgic journey through an imaginary landscape, even a bit emotionally draining. Sinking into an emotionally-driven auditory landscape was immersive and ultimately introspective, like múm was playing the soupy emotions in the audience. The music stirred up different feelings and different memories for everyone, each unique and individual. However, we were all able to let our guards down and face our vulnerable sentimental sides because of múm’s music.