The opener on this bright debut floats along on the bleating of a couple of wonky wooden recorders and some chirping Icelandic vocals — it's high pitched and somersaulting (like a back-masked Joanna Newsom track), part bedroom pop and part forest folk, an echo of Nordic cousins like Islaja and Lau Nau. These four 16-year-old girls from the Icelandic town of Múmíndalurinn have been playing together hardly longer than a year, but they could go anywhere. And despite being scooped up by MORR, they're reported to have insisted on recording their debut on equipment they found themselves and techniques they scraped together on the fly. The direction they take here veers toward the blankets-and-chairs fort of daydreamy indie pop that Kimya Dawson has been building for years. Lyrics flip over to English and pick up that starry-eyed Björk quality you'd love not to have to expect from her neighbors (but never mind when it happens). The ladies drape toy pianos and sets of bells over nursery-rhyme guitars that are like cut-out Michel Gondry props. And the result plays like the most tasteful middle-school-crush mixtape of the past 10 years. Which isn't bad when you consider that they've had scant more time than that to prepare for it.