múm @ Museum of Garden History, London

A band whose self-confessed obsessions include sand, chickens and “larking about by the river”, it’s hard to think of a London venue more pastorally appropriate for Icelandic collective múm than the Museum of Garden History. Housed in a 400-year-old church a stone’s chuck from St Thomas’s Hospital, its glass cases full of trowels and (literally) old rope provide the septet with much between-song deadpan amusement along the lines of “isn’t it funny how little spades have changed over the years?”.

Deftly juggling so many instruments they don’t seem to know the names of all of them – one song is delayed because they “have to check the thingy’s working properly” – múm are fronted by a trio of girls who are basically the post-rock Bananarama. That is, if Bananarama were pregnant, violin-wielding poppets prone to dancing like toddlers at a wedding and magically producing recorders from heaven knows where.

Essentially a collision of glitchy electronica and archaic but endlessly charming folk, four-part multi-gender vocal harmonies find comfy homes on a bed of bleeping synth and whooshing melodica, and the presence of Kieran “Four Tet” Hebden in the crowd comes as no surprise whatsoever. Maternal bliss? You can bet your commemorative Kerry Katona “Mother of the Year” mug on it.

Charlie Ivens

Originally published on Orange.co.uk