Poor Björk. Her latest album Vulnicura leaked before it was even given a proper release date. This led to a rushed iTunes release, which angered retailers who would have otherwise sold physical copies of the album. To make matters worse, Björk describes Vulnicura as her “complete heartbreak album,” born from her failed relationship with Matthew Barney. Nothing seems to be going right for our favorite Icelandic songstress lately. While it’s a shame that the premature leak prevented this album from building proper pre-release hype, Björk can rest easily knowing that Vulnicura stands shoulder-to-shoulder with her classics.
It’s baffling to consider that Björk’s early albums are now over 20 years old. Further, any of those releases would sound just as groundbreaking if released today. Vulnicura is her first album since 2011’s Biophilia, and opener “Stone Milket” is classic Björk. Her dynamic voice glides atop a lush string arrangement, as she coos about seeking human connection in a disjointed world. It had previously been announced that The Haxan Cloak and Arca worked with Bjork in producing and mixing this album, but any traces of those avant-garde electronic artists are mostly absent here.
“Stonemilker” segues into “Lionsong,” the album’s most melodic cut. Already, a listener can begin to sense the narrative arc developing, as Björk assures herself “maybe he will come out of this.” She remains unwavering as she stares down the inevitable deterioration of her relationship, telling her lover, “I demand clarity.” Her lyrics have always been strikingly intimate and introspective, but now she’s looking outward as well.
Album centerpiece “Black Lake” is one of Björk’s most stunning achievements, and earns every second of its 10-minute runtime. She launches a lyrical assault on the man who has betrayed her, each syllable seething from her lips deliberately and gracefully. Only Björk could deliver a line such as “my heart is an enormous lake black with potion” with biblical intensity. This is a seismic shift for someone who once sang “you can’t say no to hope, can’t say no to happiness” on her landmark album Homogenic. Halfway through “Black Lake,” Björk pauses for an electronic interlude that threatens, but never unfolds into the expected climax. This masterful tension is maintained throughout Vulnicura, and is a testament to Björk’s deft songwriting.
From “Black Lake” onward, Vulnicura becomes glitchier and more electronic, and the influences of Arca and The Haxan Cloak can be felt. Fortunately, Björk never lets these producers overshadow her, as Vulnicura remains distinctly her own vision. Only “Family” comes off as a bit heavy-handed, sounding like a cut straight out of Excavation. But even the overdone atmospherics on that track can’t undermine lyrical themes so primal, that it’s almost uncomfortable to listen. She worries about how her young daughter will cope with the separation, pleading “build a safe bridge for the child out of this danger.”
Perhaps what’s most remarkable about Vulnicura is that it never stops to breathe. There is no respite from the turmoil, no dance track, and no lullaby (all hallmarks of other Björk albums). Instead, we get blitzkriegs of meticulously crafted noise and piercing violins. “Atom Dance” features a performance from Antony Hegarty, whose warped, tortured vocals add thrilling urgency to the song’s coda. While Björk has ended prior releases with tranquility, closer “Quicksand” brings no such thing. If Björk can’t find clarity and wholeness following a breakup, what’s that mean for the rest of us?
Listening to Vulnicura in its entirety is nothing short of exhausting. These nine long, shapeshifting tracks blossom and decompose at their own rate, offering little in the way of a traditional verse-chorus structure. The lack of accessibility isn’t necessarily a disappointment, as Björk has already proven herself capable of penning grand pop songs on prior albums. Vulnicura is demanding, and confronts a listener with the raw emotions Björk dealt with while writing it. It’s an album that will be remembered for its uncompromising artistry, not its botched release.
Rating: 4.5/5