Published on Jan 16, 2003
Well, Bjork found her vagina.
That’s probably the best way to sum up
Vespertine, Bjork’s hyper-intimate 2001 release. Too graphic
of an intro? It’s difficult not to come away with that impression
listening to the track “Cocoon”: “He slides inside/Half awake half
asleep/We faint back into sleephood/When I wake up the second time
in his arms/Gorgeousness/he’s still inside me!!!” Bjork has never
made straightforward songs, and for all I know, she could have
meant for the song just to be about cuddling with your mate. But
damn, that’s some vivid imagery.
Imagery of bubbling kettles, percolating coffee and stretching
tundra (you can’t take the Iceland out of Bjork, no matter where
she decides to live) dominate
Vespertine. In interviews, she said she intended to make an
album that celebrated the joys of domesticity. I guess it didn’t
hurt that she fell head-over-heels in love during the making of
this album.
It would seem like a logical step; each album Bjork has made up
to
Vespertine has been a near-landmark recording. With
Debut, Bjork bid farewell to former bandmates the Sugarcubes
and enveloped the world of electronica and techno with a
much-needed weight of humanity. With
Post, she turned around and threw down her own five-star
masterpiece. The album was so good, a critic couldn’t even call it
“her Blood on the Tracks” or “her Nevermind.” The album had no peer
or precedent; it was a true groundbreaker. And with
Homogenic, Bjork turned her scorned rage into a pulsating
follow-up. Although not quite as good as its predecessors, it
certainly didn’t embarrass itself and proved to be a great
follow-up album.
With
Vespertine, Bjork listeners braced themselves to be bowled
over once again. To get their ass kicked. To be mesmerized. But
instead, Bjork often retreats into a whisper. Her voice is so
delicate on
Vespertine, you half expect it drift away and disappear. I
kept revisiting the album, almost pleading it to grow on me, but it
never fully sank its talons in.
Bjork’s contentment in her personal life results in her most
stable album, and frequently her least interesting. One of Bjork’s
greatest assets is her other-worldly voice. Her primal growls lit
up songs like “Enjoy” and made such general lyrics like “I’m so
bored with cowards,” sound like a stunning testimony. It also
helped that she surrounded herself with great collaborators.
Tricky, Goldie and Wu-Tang’s RZA are among the people who have
contributed their skills to some of Bjork’s tracks.
Bjork sings about going to “a hidden place” on the first track.
And the first thing she chose to hide was her voice. Now, devoid of
beats and voice, the songs have to rely on her lyrical power — and
on
Vespertine, it’s not enough to carry the album. It’s like a
Tori Amos album with her voice buried in computer blips and white
noise. It’s like a Tool album without the drums. I’m not saying
Bjork should stick to a certain formula, but in this case, it
didn’t completely work.
Still,
Vespertine is a love/hate album. Many fans either consider
this her best album, or her worst. Few have ranked it in the
middle. There have been a few times that I have seriously enjoyed
the album. However, most music needs the ability for a person to
identify with the artist to be effective. And just when I think
this album has grown on me, I’ll put
Debut or
Homogenic back on again, and both albums will blow me away
again. Besides, I don’t think I can ever achieve the sort of
emotional bliss that Bjork saturates
Vespertine with. She has found happiness. Let’s hope she
finds her voice on her next album.