Bjork: Vespertine
When I first bought the new Bjork album, Vespertine, when asked what I thought of it, I was pretty much totally at a loss, and had to confess I had no idea. I had listened to it carefully a number of times, but all I could conclude was that these songs would only reveal themselves slowly over time; they resisted any intrusion, any attempt at analysis, or even simply to try to grasp their contours or determine their depth. They would reveal themselves to me in their own way and in their own time; I would need to let them slowly filter through my subconscious - slowly, maddeningly slowly. Only then, after I had spent the necessary time with these songs, would I be able to come to some sort of conclusion about them, develop an opinion, or judge their qualities. Or at least, so I hoped.Well, I was right; that is exactly what was needed, and that is exactly what has happened. So I can now firmly and with confidence express my carefully considered judgment of this album. Only, even now that my opinion is clear to me, words still fail me. How to describe these songs, this album? What do I need here - superlatives? Poetry?
I suppose the easiest way would be to use the first and simplest words that spring to mind. So: This album is Fantastic. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Brilliant. Wonderful. Glorious.
Okay, that's the easy part done; but I can hardly stop the review there, I'm going to have to try to tell you something about the album. And this is where it gets tricky.
Vespertine is Bjork's fourth solo release - fifth, if you include her songs from last year's Lars von Trier movie, Dancer in the Dark. From the release of her debut on, she immediately established her creative supremacy, with people throwing such foolish epithets at her as "the Queen of Pop" for her intensely individual, utterly charming approach to her music. The combination of her highly personal, expressive, clear and direct lyrics, her inimitable and adorable Icelandic accent, her almost precious voice, and her unswerving taste in selecting the producers and musicians with which to surround herself, made for some of the finest albums of the last decade. Each album was a world unto itself, as she more or less reinvented herself with each release: the thoughtful pop/house diva of Debut; the trip-hop queen of Post; the icy electro goddess of Homogenic; or the show-tune urchin diva of Selmasongs (the songs from Dancer in the Dark). While different albums thrilled different people to greater of lesser extents, their quality and musical integrity has never for a moment been in doubt; each was a pearl of an album, linked to the others and yet entirely autonomous and unique.
As a result, each succeeding Bjork album is awaited with particular trepidation and bated breath; where is she going to take us next? Will the next album be as unique and special as the last? Well, Vespertine's prime similarity with previous albums is the same completely consistent soundworld, totally distinct from those preceding it. Where this release may exceed her other albums, however, is the degree to which its soundworld is an entirely new, entirely personal, space; where some previous albums' sounds and textures were to some extent determined by the artists with whom Bjork had chosen to work - Mark Bell, Tricky, Nelly Hooper - as a result, they bore those artists' trademarks (particularly, perhaps, the clear and present stamp Mark Bell left on Homogenic). While this is in no way intended as a criticism of those albums, what makes Vespertine so stunning is that it doesn't sound like anything else you've ever heard before.
This album contains some of Bjork's most intimate and personal songwriting ever (quite an achievement; her previous work was already almost painfully intimate and personal). Her choices for the music to surround, envelop and carry forward such personal pieces are entirely appropriate, and serve the lyrics wonderfully, allowing the space for them to unfold without ever dominating or distracting. The musical palette used throughout the album is commendably restrained; it rests on just a few key textures - lush, sweeping strings; believe it or not, the delicate tinkling of a music box (that she is able to pull this off without coming off as dismissably quaint is remarkable in itself); plus subtle, tastefully chosen digital touches - the abstract crunches, clicks and pulses that serve as the only rhythms or beats for the songs (and sparsely utilized, at that), or the slow, brooding bass textures. Other prime elements of the musical picture include the periodic appearance of hovering choirs, and contributions from the wonderful harpist Zeena Parkins.
All this makes for a wide, wonderful, cathedral-like space, vast and yet stunningly intimate, that pulls the listener in before gently offering up the gems and treasures, one by one, of slight, delicate touches and musical gestures, then leaves you to get lost in the lyrics. The writing and arrangements are primarily impressionistic; lush, rich, sweeping and soaring, but kept far from the risk of becoming cloying, saccharine or maudlin by Bjork's rather open, somewhat distanced and almost abstract approach to melody - always tonal and rooted, but pulling and stretching from that starting point like a bird on a lead. What is most striking here though is decidedly her masterful control of arrangement and texture. These are the dominating aspects of these songs, and her artistry in this regard is truly astounding; unique, pure, without even the hint of a flaw. The sort of foibles commonly found in less assured artists' attempts at this sort of approach - too many elements; too busy; cliched sonorities; or an over-reliance on paint-by-number reverb and effects to build the desired ambiance - are entirely absent here. Indeed, as I have already stated, perhaps the most remarkable characteristic of the production here is its unswerving restraint - never a stroke out of place, never a sound heard where silence or stillness would have served better.
As for the lyrics, they are among the most honest, open and unfettered yet heard. Bjork ventures into territory here that would spell disaster for any other singer; subjects such as dreams or making love, when treated so directly, are almost guaranteed to come off as amateur; but she pulls it off, without distancing herself or retreating behind abstraction. These songs are all first person present tense; she is speaking entirely openly of herself and her experiences, directly to the listener. Again, it is only through unparalleled sensitivity and artistry that this is as disarming and affecting as it is, without falling into sentimentality. Only Bjork could sing a song that begins "I have a recurrent dream..." and still hold our interest; only she could end a song with a long, repeating chant of "I love him; I love him; I love him..." without sounding trite - on the contrary, the effect is almost painful. The album also includes some of the most direct description of the act of love-making ever heard, deeply personal and profoundly moving.
Some may grow bored with the constant and unflinching confessional tone of Bjork's lyrics; but hey, that's what she does, and that's what makes her so moving, so successful at communicating to the listener, at reaching out to an unseen audience. She has refined her lyrical sensibilities over her career to achieve on Vespertine a disarming purity and deceptive simplicity that is, perhaps, a lyricist's highest achievement.
It is a very fine line she walks on this album, lyrically, musically and melodically; and there are those who may find it a strain at times - for example, her long, rambling melodic lines occasionally begin to drift, but generally stop short of stretching our musical credulity too far. And the rare and occasional melodic trespass is quickly lost in the unending splendour of an artist in full form.
Every one of Bjork's albums to date has been superb and inexhaustibly enjoyable; it is with Vespertine, however, that she reaches full maturity as an artist. The album delivers so totally individual a musical vision, and is so deeply personal a statement, that here, I think, we see an artistic achievement genuinely deserving of recognition, which will remain close to us, relevant, and moving for a long long time to come.
Bjork: Vespertine. Elektra, 2001.
Review by James Andean. 4th issue, November 2001.