Mávar makes anxiety ridden ambient noise. That’s what the insert that comes with this cassette says.
And it’s not wrong.
I was bummed when Icelandic DIY noise label Hundrað Prósent Plastík went dark after releasing five wonderfully-packaged CDs back in 2023. But tiny, dare I say micro, labels do come and go, and I was just glad I’d managed to get my hands on copies of all five thanks to my friend Gestur. So imagine my surprise and delight when the label popped up on Instagram a few months ago announcing a new series of cassettes being put out as part of RVK Noise Fest 2. A few DMs later and I had placed an order for all five of the tapes.
Mávar is a pulsing hum that makes you clench your jaw. Mávar is tension in your neck. Mávar is your fillings vibrating. Mávar makes your dog leave the room, casting some heavy side-eye at you as they look for some place to escape the sound. When the voice kicks in you initially wonder if it’s a hallucination. But it’s not. It’s real. Or at least I think it’s real, because I’m quickly becoming unsure about a lot of things. Like what this is doing to my brain synapses, or if I even exist at all.
How does one write about noise? I don’t know. Words are insufficient due to the utter lack of anything recognizable. Which is also why it appeals to me. Noise, in Mávar’s case more formally harsh noise (but not harsh noise wall… the noise genre family tree truly is impressive…), is about experiencing something so far outside the norm, something so unrecognizable by the human experience, that it just stops you cold in your tracks. Most people cover their ears and head for the exits. But for a few there is a connection of some kind, a missing puzzle piece that the sound seems to somehow fill. What causes mental anguish for some actually releases the pressure for others. Corium doesn’t build or increase, it simply is, relentless, monolithic, the background sound of the expanding universe, both sound and ur-sound, the alpha and omega, the sonic word made flesh.
Corium and the other new cassettes are not yet available online, as near as I can tell. However if you want to get a feel for Mávar and the label you can check out the Hundrað Prósent Plastík Bandcamp page HERE. (UPDATE – this cassette is currently available via the White Centipede Noise website HERE)