Mum Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy (Love Da Records) One approaches Icelandic indie music the way one tucks into a postmodern novel or fusion cuisine: expecting the unexpected. The anticipation of a new experience is half the fun, which also means the musician/writer/chef inevitably has a higher dais from which to fall. Fortunately, experimental electronic band Mum have cushioned their landing in several ways: Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy is so idiosyncratic it proves difficult to draw comparisons, good or bad; the group have also recorded what could easily be a movie soundtrack, which provides further insulation from criticism based on melody, lyrics or vocal talent. That said, the album is largely a success. Listeners will be unable to sing or even hum any of the 12 songs, but they'll probably find themselves leaving the recording on a constant loop because each track offers something different every time it's played. That includes the haunting Moon Pulls, a sparse work of longing that ends as abruptly as Marmalade Fire starts. Hippie-dippy but strangely sinister, the evocatively named song recalls smiles masking secrets; creepy plinky-plonky ice cream van music, ghostly merry-go-rounds and eerie puppets with blank but seeing eyes also come to mind. This is probably why it segues into Dancing Behind My Eyelids, a techno ditty with computerised duck quacks - or are they pigeon coos? The song titles are part of the charm of Go Go Smear the Poison Ivy, which opens with Blessed Brambles, an appropriate lead track because it sets the mood with its breathy vocals, capricious percussion and fanciful strings. Mum have a strange, inexplicable draw - just succumb to it.
