While it’s true for most artists, comparing Björk’s records against each other is a particularly futile task. Each one of her previous eight LPs are unique in their own right, but with the rush release of Vulnicura the avant-garde force has yet again trumped our expectations, albeit for slightly different reasons this time around.
Unlike her past efforts Vulnicura is very much indebted to the soundscapes of her back catalogue, while lyrically this “heartbreak album” showcases a Björk at her most straightforward and visceral yet. After years of providing fantastical universes and creative otherwordly metaphors it’s this unprecedented access that allows the record to be her best, or at the very least, most accessible opus since 2001’s Vespertine.
Bare that fourteen year gap between her fourth LP and the current one in mind as we explain our reasons behind labelling Vulnicura the Icelandic musician’s best record in years.
After Biophilia You Cannot Understate The Record’s Relatability
Biophilia is, and remains to be, Björk’s most conceptual and challenging record to date, it’s appreciated best in a live context (or in the context of the concert film Biophilia Live if you were so unlucky), but there’s no denying that by exploring the relationship between nature, music and technology the musician substituted a bit of humanity in the process. It was that human disconnect of her last record, which makes Vulnicura so devastatingly refreshing.
While The Guardian have already adeptly hypothesised the link between Vulnicura and Vespertine in terms of Björk’s relatability the former taps into a feeling that more astutely connects, or as they say ‘tugs at the heart strings’.
The musician details the most painstaking aspects of the breakdown of her relationship with Mathew Barney, from its final moments through to its end and her rise in the aftermath.
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In the first quarter Björk toils with the idea that it might be over. She demands “emotional respect” from the outset on the gorgeous ‘Stonemilker’, but then struggles for answers on ‘Lionsong’. “Maybe he will come out of this, maybe he won’t, somehow I’m not bothered either way”. While those lyrics sound defiant, they’re underpinned by an overriding sadness, like convincing yourself of your strength before finally snapping. Meanwhile the reflection of their intimacy on ‘History Of Touches’ reveals the end before it actually comes on ‘Black Lake’.
It’s that ten-minute centrepiece where Björk reveals herself the most. She might convey her melancholia through metaphors, but as her heart rate accelerates and the beats follow in tow it’s the simplicity of the lines “my soul torn apart, my spirit is broken in two” that is painstakingly clear. So much so that you’re grateful for the song’s pauses and ebbs giving you time to digest before it flows.
The latter half of the album pulls no punches either in its stark honesty. ‘Family’ demonstrates the separation’s devastating effects on her daughter as she strives to be “safe from death” on ‘Notget’.
It Contains Hallmarks Of All Her Past Records
While the lyrical intimacy is perhaps the record’s most unique trait another surprising facet of Vulnicura is that it doesn’t push into a completely new sonic territory like most of her past work does. Undoubtedly that fact that it almost sounds like an amalgamation of her back catalogue is something to make of in itself. Björk pushes forward by paying respect to old territory.
It may not be completely conspicuous, but aside from the obviously Homegenic-reminiscent strings there are flashes here and there from the past. From the distorted vocals on ‘Lionsong’ that harks back to Medulla, while the lightness of ‘History Of Touches’ sounds just slightly more urgent than that of Biophilia’s ‘Thunderbolt’. Elsewhere the beats of ‘Mouth Mantra’ sounds decidedly Vespertine-esque. And yes you could even compare the return of Antony Hegarty, who plays the role of the male lead on ‘Atom Dance’, after appearing twice on Volta.
It Contains Björk’s Best Use Of Strings Since Homogenic
The dominant blockbuster-sized orchestra score of Vulnicura is important not just because of its reminiscence to Homogenic, but because of its difference. The strings on the musician’s 1997 release worked more in tandem with the beats than on her latest record, but just as they signified the ominous declaration that was the thumping ‘Bachelorette’, the drama on Vulnicura is far more sombre, as its electronic aspects flourish underneath.
While there are strings in certain points on Vespertine, like ‘Undo’ or ‘Harm Of Will’, they were nowhere near as integral as they were on Homogenic. But in this regard Björk pushes the envelope on Vulnicura. They’re more prevalent here than they’ve ever been and it only heightens her pain as it elevates the record’s beauty.
Arca’s Touches Are Important Without Being Scene Stealing
As Björk noted in an interview with Pitchfork, her collaborators in the past have been given a little more credit than was due. The same thing happened when media outlets credited Arca as a co-producer when he had only worked on seven tracks of the record.
His presence on Vulnicura is noted, however it feels nowhere as prolific as his work on FKA Twigs’ LP1. While Arca’s influence is most apparent on ‘History Of Touches’, for much of the record his electronic touches lurk underneath a dominant section of strings. They’re important foundations and there is no doubt that his electronic style is felt (see ‘Notget’ or ‘History Of Touches’), but you cannot deny that Björk brings the best out of her collaborators without them ever truly overrunning her creative control.
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Final Verdict
If Vulnicura, as some music writers seem to believe, is a marriage between the words of ‘vulnerable’ and ‘cure’ then Björk comes to an interesting conclusion on the closing track, ‘Quicksand’. “When I’m broken, I am whole and when I’m whole, I’m broken” she sings and while much of the latter half of the record sees the musician regaining her independence through a melancholic defiance, it’s here she admits that the wounds are yet to fully heal. A further evidence of this can be seen in the aforementioned Pitchfork interview where she breakdowns crying upon the first instance of the album’s subject matter. But what ‘Quicksand’ does reveal is Björk’s acceptance of the wounds themselves. She hasn’t quite come to terms with the heartbreak itself, but she has accepted the fact that she is heartbroken, thus curing that certain vulnerability.
For an enigma like Björk it’s breathtaking that nine albums into her career she has finally given such a poignant viewpoint of her pain. For a women seen and held in an almost mythical like regard Vulnicura is the humanising moment of her career. By providing us with as much transparency as she can afford to give Björk has added a new milestone to her legacy under the guise of her latest LP.
Vulnicura is out now via Inertia.
