MUGISON - Mugimama, Is This Monkey Music?

All over the place I read about this new work by Icelandic artist

Mugison as the album of maturity, a work destined to represent the

extreme point of his journey, even though — it's also said — it's his

least experimental moment. Nothing could be more misleading. In these 12 tracks, the

the folk-tronic shell of his previous work is only occasionally scratched by touches of

notable creativity, while for the rest, this lo-fi craftsmanship shows

its shortcomings in full. A few small exploits (the uneasy

noir-electro perspective of “I Want You” or the nostalgia-drenched piano of “Hold On

Happiness”) seem left to chance amid scribbled-down notes

like “Swing Ding” or “Never Give Up”, inconclusive even in terms

of compositional coherence.

Elsewhere, Mugison dusts off some

well-crafted, intimate songwriting with a certain

romantic streak, as in the resigned, aching “2 Birds”, delivered as a two-

voice duet, and in the somnambulant waltz of “I'd Ask”. “The Chicken Song” is the corner where

the Icelandic musician transplanted to London's two souls converge: the

acoustic and the electronic, blended into a sonic pastiche in which the

ingredients never quite achieve the kind of fusion that would call for a miracle.

The lullaby of “What I Would Say In Your Funiral” brightens

the minimalist approach of his songwriting, injecting massive doses of black

humor into an already blatantly depressive atmosphere. The frenetic cut-and-paste, in

which some have claimed to detect points of contact with the Beck of days gone by, can be found in

a schizoid version in the syncopated pile of whirling samples,

shreds of electronics and hysterical vocalizing on "Sad As A Truck". More

convincing and engaging, on the other hand, is the limping fingerpicking of "Murr

Murr".

It's clear that when Mugison focuses on limited means and

very few, very specific emotions, he manages to hit the target. The problem is that

this record remains too lopsided toward a side where the man seems unable

to fully express himself, preferring the card of inconclusive risk-taking

to that of dignified craftsmanship. That's why, then, the point of

tracks like "Salt" is hard to grasp. The pizzicato strings and the

spoken female vocals seem meant to spread unease, to try playing the

card of the misshapen and the musically eccentric. But it's not the fault of a listen

distracted if attention and emotional intensity drop noticeably. On the other

hand, the closing track itself, "Afi Minn" (nine minutes of silences, breaths and

yawns, unfolding from a divertissement made of jaunty harmonica lines) is the

clearest symptom of just how little there is worth saving on this record.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

30/04/2026