Review: Björk, Vespertine

Born of the Napster era, Björk’s Vespertine might just be the first commercial D.I.Y. electronic album.

Björk, VespertineBorn of the Napster era, Björk’s Vespertine might just be the first commercial D.I.Y. electronic album, a euphoric and wintery mix of songs composed largely on the artist’s laptop. Despite her undeniable pop leanings, Björk has proven herself one of the most talented composers of our time, from the intricate arrangements of “Isobel” and “Bachelorette” to the dramatic storytelling of the soundtrack album Selmasongs. And Vespertine is no exception, elevating her artistry to a breathtaking level of sonic and lyrical sophistication.

The album’s first single, “Hidden Place,” finds Björk basking in the esoteric hide-and-seek of burgeoning romance, an electronic choir of icy soprano cherubs resounding her hesitant bliss. Likewise, “Cocoon” offers a novel metaphor for the exchange of love, encased with minimalist puttering percussion and a restrained vocal: “A train of pearls, cabin by cabin/Is shot precisely across an ocean/From a mouth of a girl like me/To a boy.”

Vespertine delicately traces the cycle of said relationship, from loss of personal identity and full possessive entrapment (“Pagan Poetry”) to obstinacy and subsequent embrace of unity (“Unison”): “I can obey all of your rules and still be: be.” Perhaps sparked by the darkness of her role in last year’s Dancer in the Dark, the chilling “An Echo a Stain” explores what seems to be love or death or, in all Björkian likelihood, both: “One of these days soon…Feel my breath on your neck/And your heart will race.”

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While the sonically stormy Homogenic purged her rage and disharmony with worldly things (love, the physical body, etc.), Vespertine finds Björk nestled quietly within the resulting calm. She draws on Pooh’s passive Taoism on the healing “Undo” and “It’s Not Up to You”: “If you wake up and the day feels broken/Just lean into the crack.” Both tracks are spilled over with Björk’s typical sweeping string arrangements and a musique concrète percussion style a la Matthew Herbert (who not-so coincidentally lent his programming skills to “Hidden Place”).

On “Heirloom,” Björk dreams up a fantastic new-age remedy for laryngitis: “I swallow warm glowing lights/My mother and son bake for me.” The midtempo decree is the fastest track on the entire album, yet barely paced to quicken our pulse. (The uptempo “Our Hands,” an outtake from the Vespertine recording sessions, has been relegated to B-side status and will be sorely missed here).

Elsewhere, the quirky “Sun in My Mouth” is the type of track that alienates (and/or sails over the heads of) steadfast critics of Björk, Kate Bush, and Tori Amos. Partly based on E.E. Cummings’s “Wade,” it’s an arduous task deciphering the song’s intended message: “I shall enter fingers of smooth mastery/With chasteness of seagulls.” Regardless, the album as a whole is further proof of that very mastery, lulling Björk’s distinct sound with the joys and pangs of domesticity.

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Score: 
 Label: Elektra  Release Date: August 27, 2001  Buy: Amazon

Sal Cinquemani

Sal Cinquemani is the co-founder and co-editor of Slant Magazine. His writing has appeared in Rolling Stone, Billboard, The Village Voice, and others. He is also an award-winning screenwriter/director and festival programmer.

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