Kristín pauses for a second, and I can hear the sound of dishes being washed in the background, as I have for the past 15 minutes. She lets out a little half-giggle. "I don't know if I'm making any sense at all."
In the end, the band's ethereal mystery may be impossible to crack. And that's just fine with Múm. "Some people think this record is more about sounds and ambience and not songs," says Kristín when I tell her that despite the fair amount of singing she does on Summer, it's the band's most textural record yet, its least dependent upon the kinds of precious melodies that make people think of 6-year-old tree nymphs. "And some people think we're writing more proper songs. I think I'll leave it at that. It's good that people are confused about it. "