Taking the Goldilocks approach Björk‘s newest album Vulnicura can either be too much, too little or just right. Emotionally it’s a teardrop away from being excessive (too much), but at only ten songs it’s a mere glimpse into the madness (too little). But combined it is a delicate portrayal of loss and the stages of pain that come with it (just right). Contributions from Arca and The Haxan Cloak make it one of the most engaging albums in her catalog, the subtlety behind the compositions adding depth and sophistication — a synergy that FKA Twigs attempted to corral but could not.
Björk has been candid about the album and its inspiration, so there are no major surprises to overcome. It is a clear Polaroid of what she experienced during the most difficult time in her life — the frustration and anger over losing her family. It’s a dark album, but all the emotions are understandable, which humanizes a likeness that for so long has stood out as larger than life. The project is not a casual experience in the least, but rather a stronghold of deep emotion. But in a time where scripted sentimentality is the norm, it couldn’t be, despite its undertones, a more welcome respite.
‘Stonemilker‘
For as mouthwatering as stone milk can be, the sense here is that it’s a bitter cup. She’s asking for the impossible using memories and hindsight as a way to describe her feelings of anguish and to some degree helplessness. She could cry, but the strings do that for her, just enough to hold ’em back:
‘Lionsong‘
Speaking through multiple dimensions and sounding absolutely terrifying while doing it — like a Bene Gesserit seeking vindication. Her voice is full of malice and sounds like an accordion drowning in a sea of metal. What she finds in the end is the bitter yet stark form known as inevitable acceptance:
‘History of Touches‘
Fleeting emotions leading to erotic acrobatics, subtle all the way through. What Cirque Du Soleil would sound like had it been directed by an Iceland queen. The synth is a soft brushstroke simulating her delicate touch, but darkness is the overwhelming feeling, and it is relentless from the jump:
‘Black Lake‘
Anguish and darkness from all directions proportionate to jumping in a black hole. It’s a post break-up lamentation that has stolen the gravity from her being, hurdling her into emotional limbo. She’s not being over-dramatic, just honest and exclusive to her own experience, a swim out in deep space:
‘Family‘
Dragging her feet through a river of molten steel, and delving even deeper into the abyss of her own soul. And there is no pain quite like that of a matriarch who has been torn from her nest. It’s rich with emotion and lathered in pain, the sound of someone slowly falling back onto a dull knife:
‘Notget‘
Love is blind, especially when the other half is treating it like it were a game. The recovery timeline is now closing in on a year and while not necessarily a ray of sunshine it is approaching resolution. At the very least she’s turned the corner understanding that regret would only slow her down:
‘Atom Dance‘
The strings conjure up a feeling of awakening, revelation perhaps. She’s coming to grips with her loss and the meaning of connection, how the breaking of one bond can just as easily lead to the creation of another. It is a reenactment of life’s natural flow, a portrait of its paradoxical ways:
‘Mouth Mantra‘
Like Galaga, but instead of little aliens, it’s lingering emotions being shot down. She’s finding words and feelings that have apparently been repressed for years, and as they’re being resurrected the wounds that have healed are now opening back up again, splitting at the seems and bleeding profusely:
‘Quicksand‘
An instructional that in a way explains how she was able to get to the dark corners that frame the album. It’s about her mom who was in a coma, but the way the breaks jut in and out it would seem that she’s trying to represent something more, an invisible door that leads to the other side:
