At a certain point Halifax’s Nick Everett and Everybody decided to pare down, so they added a member. The explosive, reverb-padded guitar freakouts and whisper-guitar-folk was becoming commonplace. Doubling down on the musicianship, Everett brought in cellist-turned-bassist Eliza Niemi to catalogue a world of musical ideas in a series of rock and roll epithets. Mauno has come to understand what the baroque pop bands of the late oughts did not — that musical idiosyncrasy comes just as much from songwriting as from piling on unpronounceable instruments. Even what is ostensibly a rock band can still bring you something you have never heard before.
With clean guitars, precise bass and drums, Mauno flips the switch from clean indie rock to electric folk to gorgeous jangle pop. Hard stops add humour to harmony and slow builds are slickly redirected to new sonic spaces. Mauno is the Velvet Underground if they were good at their instruments. Mauno is The Beatles if they were born in the ‘90s. This is the band you can use to prove to your nephew that you know what’s “cool these days.” Naming their first full length after R. Murray Schafer’s The Soundscape, Mauno offers an antithesis to the sonic imperialism of our oppressively loud metropolitical world. But surprisingly their answer isn’t more instruments, more harmonies, more sound — it’s less.
Biography by Liam Prost