Björk - Vulnicura

It was going to take something special to get me to review an entire album, but Vulnicura is the best thing I’ve heard all year. Created in the midst of her breakup with long-term partner Matthew Barney, the result is at times harrowing to hear; but as a result, this Björk’s most personal work for ages, in addition to the usual sonic brilliance.

Most of the album follows the story chronologically - opener “Stonemilker” is labelled with “9 months before”, with each track standing in relation to the time of the couple’s parting. The meeting of technology and emotions, a common theme in Björk’s earlier work, comes up with “I wish to synchronise our feelings”. We see this again on the beautifully-textured “History Of Touches”, a heart-rending account of lovemaking shortly before the split, as all their past sensations are described as archives “compressed into a second” (complete with compressed vocal).

The darkest moments are, of course, immediately after the break-up. “Black Lake” is 10 minutes of venom, a scorned lover pouring forth bitterness until there’s none left. Björk, in an interview with Pitchfork, claimed that she’s “embarrassed” to listen to it, which is understandable, but there’s something perversely magnificent about how the song descends ever-deeper into anguish. It starts with her own pain: ““I am one wound, my body, suffering being”, seems to allude to the album cover. But her feelings towards her former love are soon laid bare - among many other quotable lines, there is “you betrayed your own heart, corrupted that organ”

Then, there’s “Family”, an incredible meeting of lyrics and sound. Björk’s mourns the loss of her family unit over a spooky intro and some bass thumps, before she wonders how to carry on as the strings go frantic. This is a replaced by a soaring resonance as she desperately calls out “God save my daughter” over and over again. I’m no expert on post-relationship emotional stages but this is a great study of them, followed up by the sinister “Notget” (“11 months later”).

If you were missing talk of astral realms and the Universe in among all the heartbreak and feelings, “Atom Dance” might do the trick. Maybe Björk reverting to type is a sign that she’s no longer wrapped up in her own emotions, and we certainly see the first signs of hope at this point. Something about the track makes you think about walking gently through space, while the songstress appeals to someone else to “enter the pain and dance with me!”, as if ridding the pain of another is a type of catharsis. And then Antony Hegarty’s voice jumps in! To hear the two of them singing “atoms are laughing at last” together is pretty heartening after the emotional journey we’ve been taken on. 

The album sounds absolutely lush. Björk spoke in glowing terms of co-producer Arca and the myriad of beats he provides complement the content, never overpowering or detracting from it. Björk’s own string arrangements were clearly a labour of love and make this sound like the true successor to 1997’s Homogenic; from the melancholic brooding of “Lion Song” to the delicate optimism of closing track, the wispy wonder that is “Quicksand”. And of course, there’s her unmistakeable voice, which sounds superb throughout.

Heartbreak may be an obvious musical topic, but it’s not an easy one. Crystallising your tenderest feelings into something that other people can relate to is hard work, and to make it sound so good is remarkable. We enjoy Björk exploring space, nature and technology, but her finest moments are characterised by raw emotionality. Vulnicura manages to be one of the greatest accomplishments of an artist who’d already done it all.