Mus are rooted in Gijón, on the coast of Asturias in Northern Spain, where it rains more often than not. So much for sunny Spain. The duo made up by Fran Gayo and Monica Vacas has been atypical to the Spanish music scene since the release of the EP Zuna in 1997. Then came Pigaz in 1998 and a full-length debut in 1999, the excellent Fai. Divina lluz –pronounced dee-vee-nah youth and Asturian for Divine Light- is their third full length recording, a follow up to 2002’s El Naval and the culmination of a change that began with the release of Alma in 2000. For the recording of Alma, Mus brought in friends and local musicians to collaborate on the fleshing out of songs. The EP would be a major turning point in their music. From then on, they would increasingly rely on natural instrumentation and become interested in performing live. Their style? Imagine Low, The American Analog Set, L´Altra or Mazzy Star in the tailing wind of a tequila hangover, simmering under Spanish dusk

Though El Naval perfected ideas suggested by Alma, Divina lluz is undeniably their best work to date, accomplished enough as to shed light on those previous releases. The record benefits from the talents of new collaborators, guitarist Iker González, drummer Manu Molina and multi-instrumentalist/recording engineer Pedro Vigil. A perfect example of this can be found on the sweeping intensity of “Na esplanada”, where solemn acoustic guitar strum and a trailing electric stride over an ominous drumbeat. The effect of the song is as chilling as that of the cold wind the lyric describes. At all times Monica’s voice remains clearly above the music, underlining the importance of stories told with utmost sincerity and economy of elements. They arrange instrumentation according to the melody’s needs, not afraid to add layers or shed them when necessary. They can celebrate simplicity on songs like “Escuela cruda” or “Divina lluz”, and then go on to intricately weave and pan plucked instruments and folk inspired percussion on “Pela xenra blanca” or hold organ notes over a mangle of sustained and distorted guitar on “Con un calendariu na mano”. All these different approaches make it hard to point towards a set of influences without creating false expectations. Their music is more a product of their personalities than a gathering of affinities.

Mus paint precise and poetic portraits of their surroundings. Even when adapting traditional Asturian ballads as they do with “Dexame pasar” and “Sola” they make you aware of the timelessness of certain ideas.

Still, the album remains a distinct result of it’s place and time. It testifies for the preoccupations of two people while describing both sides of a story that repeats itself in lives anywhere, at any time. Some leave, some are left behind. The mourning of those left behind is described in songs like “Divina lluz” or “A la fonte cada mañana”. The grief of departure is poignantly expressed by poet and activist José Luis García Rúa reciting an adaptation of his poem “Adiós Gijón, Adiós” on the last song of the record. Divina lluz is a heartfelt tribute to an array of emotions that converge in love and loneliness.