Stafrænn Hákon doesn’t exist. Really, he doesn’t. What does exist is Stafrænn Hákon, the musical project of Icelander Ólafur Josephsson, who for 8 years has been making ambient music under this banner. Ólafur Josephsson is the brainchild and creative force behind Stafrænn Hákon, and with the help of lots of his musically inclined peers, he’s created Gummi, his 5th studio album, a potent and somewhat elegiac mix of ambient, lo-fi electronica, and post-rock sounds.
Josephsson's Icelandic heritage and his decision to record most of the album in the Icelandic countryside was obviously an influential factor in the creation of vast soundscapes and haunting melodies on the album, but you get the feeling that Gummi would sound just as good if it had been recorded in a council house in Peckham. Well, maybe not, probably more like Dizzee Rascal, so yet again we can be thankful to the good hand Mother Nature dealt out to Iceland. I’ll admit that I wasn’t overly familiar with the work of Stafrænn Hákon before this release, but upon sifting through the back catalog, it is clear that Gummi improves it no end. From the very first listen, you notice a more expansive sound, a broader sound, a more evolved sound, and the whole album flows together as one. There’s a wider range of instruments being used here, and the vocal tracks have more conviction that on previous works.
Opening track “Jarn” is the gentle entrée into the album, with it’s swirling multi instrumental harmonies setting a precedent for the rest of Gummi. “Svefn” is passable impression of the Album Leaf, with clicking beats and minimal guitar work giving way to some haunting vocals: “I might not wake up to see another day,” are not the most cheerful thoughts you’ll ever hear. For “P-Rofi,” Ólafur ropes in one of The Silent Ballet’s favorites Efterklang to add their expertise, and the collaboration doesn’t disappoint. A fractured glockenspiel melody fades into a rising climax of strings, drums, and guitars, before melting into whispered dual harmonies and delicate guitar picking. Of all the vocal tracks on this album, “Purr Purr” is the most obvious, with the vocals as a focal point for the song, not just a minor accompaniment. Dark and brooding electronica and ambient instrumentation are the backing track -- think Thom Yorke’s solo efforts, without the foreboding sense the world is fucked, and you’re pretty much there. “Veggur” is the albums fitting finale, starting out as just a blissful shimmer, rising into a harmony laden crescendo, fading with blissful ambience, bringing the journey to a close.
What stops Gummi being a great album is the very nature of the songs themselves. They’re atmospheric and uplifting, intricate and subtle, but they float out of your conscious as soon as each track has finished, resulting in a hollow, if rather nice, listen. That’s the crux really, it’s a nice album, nice in the way you could introduce it to the parents and not be worried about how it was going to embarrass you. It’s not even really criticism is it? Maybe more bands should start producing nice albums.
-James Ould