Homogenic, Vespertine, Medúlla, Volta and Biophilia. Apart from the consistency of one word titles, what links the choice of names of Björk's last five albums is a unique phrase that defies obvious meaning and therefore it becomes attached with her project for eternity. The names are her concepts and display a new character and direction that make her never boring and constantly fascinating. Homogenic was about man, Vespertine was about night, Medúlla was about the human spirit, Volta was about energy and Biophilia was about the connection between nature and music. Her ninth album Vulnicura is a self-created dictionary-absent word that means "cure for wounds." and it's highly appopriate as the album is diary that chapters the healing process from heartbreak, to outrage, to analyzing the impacts and finally ending in acceptance. It's even more tragic, effective and intoxicating than her film Dancer In The Dark.
As oppose to her previous album, ninth album Vulnicura is an introspective journey rather than attempting revolutionize musical history with her music apps, innonative audience interaction and bespoke instruments, she wants to understand her own internal universe. The lyrics and themes are universal and are some of most honest, well-written and transparent words of wisdom from an artist known for speaking mathematically, abstract and surreal at times. The lyrics have much more emphasis and power here than on any other project and express precise despair.
Vulnicura is could be seen as the third phase in the career of Bjork, following off from phase 1: "Quirky girl enters the big popular cities, phase 2: experimental reclusive reaction following life threat and becoming a cult icon (Homogenic-Biophilia) and now into phase 3: a personal storyteller pouring out her heart.
The album's structure operates like a melancholic story and begins with tracks that were written before Bjork and Matthew Barney's break-up but suggest anxiety and a prediction of impending doom. Cracks quantify, goosebumps intensify until the connection is entirely broken. Stonemilker (9 months before) was entirely composed, written and produced by Björk and displays the first signs of uncertainty as she struggles to get Barney to communicate his alienating and intoverted personality. In the process, she compares him to a cold inanimate object. "What is it that I have that makes you feel your pain? Like milking a stone to get you to say it?" Whilst the composition is noticably different from the haphazard and inacessible Biophilia and reintroduces the combination of angelic strings, subtle heartbeat immitations and spitting electric bass. In particular it is very similar to the landscape-travelling atmosphere of Jóga and could easily be on a film soundtrack. Lionsong (5 months before) is accompanied by a music video that animates the album cover and displays Björk turning into a black widow-spider as we enter her heart's galaxy. The song has devastating false hope: "Maybe he will come of this (depression) loving me." but she shows signs of frustration and resignation: "Somehow I'm not too bothered, I'd just like to know." The string arrangement is still cinematic but undertakes apprehensive moods to match the stage of lyrics. At it's darkest, it is reminscence from the dark shades of Vespertine (e.g An Echo A Stain) and the haunting uneasiness of Medúlla (e.g Where is The Line?). At it's brightest it's sounds like the free-spirited optimism of New World (Overture) from Selmasongs. The appropriately short track, History of Touches (3 months before) is claustrophobic crystal-like synth bubble in which Björk and Barney exist in unison with their deepest and most intimate moments. It feels just as naked as Pagan Poetry but maintains a second agenda of holding on desperately to a dissappearing image as the album lurks into the inevitable heartbreak of the second chapter.
The 10-minute track Black Lake (2 months after) is a patient and slow-building time lapse that records the first intial moments of confusion resulting from heartsickness with vocal stoppages, knocking electronic blips and sorrowful strings. Then she suddenly builds up the courage to express her anger with lyrics such as "You fear my limitless emotions. I am bored of your apocalyptic obessions." and unforeseen moments of pulsating rave, remindful of the drum and bass schizophrenics on Crystalline. The confrontational Family (6 months after) uses electronic effects to envision knives stabbing into a heart, twisting and being pulled out dramatically, whilst an afterglow of ember sparkles. Appropriately used to accompany lyrics about the family consequences of abreak-up: "So where do I go to make my offering? To mourn our miraculous triangle. Father, mother, child?" The sound is somewhere between Medúlla and Vespertine with it's ceiling-reaching sonic layers, until it enters an experimental string section a kin to Owen Pallette's I'm Not Afraid and drifts into post-rock ambience. The submerging Not Get (11 months after) is the closest relation to Homogenic due it's use of suffocating glitches to a paint a dangerous environment. Although it's an essentially a middle-eastern version of Pluto and Hunter. Along with it's inclusion of creepy Hitchcock violins it effectively represents the song's topic of love protecting humans from their fear of death.
On Atom Dance and Mouth Mantra, Björk is starting to reach the acceptance stage of her heartbreak, still sad but ready to reach the next chapter. Growing the confidence to peel off layers of skin and comparing her universe in the same scientific terms heard on Biophilia. On Atom Dance, she is joined by Anthony Hegarty once again (after his inclusion of Volta's Dull Flame of Desire) but in a disjointed James-Blake manner trapped inside the train-travelling drums (a kin to I've Seen It All), fluttering double bass and compelling violins. Timeless Mouth Mantra is a mesmerizing contrast between ancient orchestration and her modern use of electronic technology. It's a lazer-fuelled war attack on herself: "Need to break up viscious habits, do something I haven't done before.", with an Asian undertone recollective of Fatima Al Qadri Asiatisch. She completes the album with the Hyperballad-esque energy of Quicksand. It moves away from her ex and appreciating a different kind of love between her and her mother and the bond that grew between them after her mother's heart attack in 2011.
It's quite a journey and by the end of it the listener can feel emotionally and compassionately exhausted yet wiser taught by the truthful and legitimate nature of Björk's story. Weird and passionate whilst career-reflective and personal. How wonderfully coincidental is that the biography of her music career is also openly displayed at the Museum of Modern Art this spring for curious eyes to see. If this album isn't a persuasive enough tool to undertake the trip, nothing will be.