BJÖRK: POST (1995)
1) Army Of Me; 2) Hyper-Ballad; 3) The Modern Things;
4) It's Oh So Quiet; 5) Enjoy; 6) You've Been Flirting Again; 7) Isobel; 8)
Possibly Maybe; 9) I Miss You; 10) Cover Me; 11) Headphones.
Listening to ʽArmy Of Meʼ, I was once again
reminded why I generally feel cold about most instrumental electronic music,
but have nothing in general against the use of electronics in an «art pop»
song, context, among other things. Electronic melodies / loops / samples on
their own have this «inorganic» feel; they can paint a vivid, realistic picture
(usually having something to do with robots, astral space, or
nanotechnologies), but they cannot serve as a proper reflection of the human
soul (when was the last time you actually cried
to something by Aphex Twin?). However, when electronic elements are combined with human soul elements, the
result can be staggeringly great — like a confrontation between the organic and
the inorganic, where it does not even matter who wins (based on the outcome,
the piece can qualify as comedy or tragedy).
ʽArmy Of Meʼ samples John Bonham (the drum part
from ʽWhen The Levee Breaksʼ), throws in an almost industrial bassline, and
adds swooshing synth effects — but this cold, heavy, sensually unpleasant
atmosphere would just be atmosphere if not for the vocals, which seem to be
fighting against the onslaught. The question is — is the music supportive of the threatening "and
if you complain once more, you'll meet an army of me" chorus, or is the
chorus fighting the music? I like to fondle the latter choice — that the brave
little Björk is arrogantly bluffing against unsurmountable odds, singing as
she is against that bassline than in
tune with it. The electronic arrangement can then be regarded as a
battleground: with the aid of Nellee Hooper, Björk meticulously puts up these
impressive, but lifeless paysages, and then hops across from one end of the
frame to another, not to «breathe life into them», but to grace them with her
own life, so to say. This song, as well as several others on this album,
represents one of the finest syntheses of electronic music and «living spirit»
I've ever heard.
If I had to choose just one album to represent
«the true Björk», Post would be it.
It is all over the place, it is in constant search of itself, it is relatively
accessible, and, most importantly, it does not show an artist losing her head
over the unexpected immensity of her talent. In fact, no better description
can there be of the big difference between Post
and Homogenic than simply a request
to compare the album covers. On Post,
you see a human exploring a psychedelic world. On Homogenic, you see a psychedelic pseudo-human exploring one of its
artificial creations (a faux-Japanese environment). Both albums are fabulous,
but when it comes to really loving my Björk, I prefer a human avatar, not a
distant idol.
For one thing, that human avatar gets us such
delights as ʽIt's Oh So Quietʼ (a cover of an old Horst Winter tune, best known
for the 1951 Betty Hutton version) — goofy theatrical jazz with an immense
joy-punch packed in; or the quiet chamber music piece ʽYou've Been Flirting
Againʼ, which shows how a cello can be a girl's best friend in a
psychologically difficult situation; or ʽPossibly Maybeʼ, a song that I'm sure
Billie Holiday would love to have covered, given the right circumstances — such
frail, elegant melancholy, perfectly integrated with the icy electronic
keyboards. They are all weird, eccentric compositions, but they are also all
deeply human and very easy to relate to, though not all at once (due to the
great mood diversity).
Even when she does drift off into fantasy land, like on the «mythological» ʽIsobelʼ,
a portrait of a mysterious being stuck somewhere between Sleeping Beauty and Shelob,
the required effect is achieved with a catchy chorus, a lush orchestral arrangement,
and vocal harmonies with just a tiny trace of dissonance. Plus, there is always
this «childish» approach, so that when she sings ʽmy name Isobel, married to
myselfʼ, you get a clear vision of an imaginative kid living out a complex
fantasy, dancing it all the way to school to those merry trip-hop rhythms.
She can
be cold and distant, of course, as early as on ʽEnjoyʼ, a song that rocks
heavier and breathier than anything else here, while Björk's vocal inflections
and the occasional brass notes make the atmosphere comparable to Portishead's
second album. But it is not really typical of this particular album. Much more
typical is something like ʽHyper-Balladʼ, whose lyrics pack all the important
ingredients: "living on a mountain" (where else?), "little
things like car-parts, bottles and cutlery" (no great artist can get by
without paying homage to the little things), "I go through all this before
you wake up" (because there's definitely gotta be a me and there's definitely
gotta be a you), and "I imagine what my body would sound like slamming
against those rocks" (because nothing helps as much to get beyond your cumbersome
ego as hypothetically contemplating suicide every once in a while). All of
this delivered in the usual childlike voice and set in an electronic soup that
eventually goes techno-beat-ish on us (without a particularly good reason, I'd
say, but somebody must have thought it added «development»).
Anyway, the really big difference between Debut and Post is that the latter sheds some of the former's kiddie joy and
adds some morose maturity, but it is a kind of depth that does not come (yet) at
the expense of accessibility. Words like «depressed» or «somber» do not do
justice to this music — Björk is still quite a party animal, it's just that
she's got her own party, to which we are all invited only if we learn and
accept her wacko rules. An «intraverted extravert», or something like that.
When she sings "My headphones / They saved my life / Your tape / It lulled
me to sleep", it looks like she really means it — basically, life begins
when you put on your headphones, not blast it all out across the street. Or
maybe that's just what I'd like to think. Regardless, a big thumbs up
to this colorful, meaningful, deeply creative and unusual musical world. And,
most importantly, so personal and human — I'd love to love, say, the
Animal Collective for their electronic wizardry with the same strength, but ultimately
they just produce these heartless abstractions, so, as Ray Davies said,
"you keep all your smart modern freak folks, give me Björk Guðmundsdóttir".
Or something to that end, anyway.
Bjork is life. She's probably the only female artist whose awkward blend of creative outburst and enjoyability factor can give Kate Bush a run for her money.
ReplyDeletePost is definitely Bjork's pinnacle, no doubt about it. I love everything she does up to Volta.
Biophilia is her first real blunder (Drawing Restraint 9 really doesn't count as any sort of musical effort). Biophilia will probably earn half a thumb up from me; it's not a bad album, it's just that the songs stopped being exciting/interesting.
Her songs were never songs. Only non-songs, and at their best (like on Homophobic, oops sorry, Homogenic) semi-songs, disguised as real songs. Voiced by some exotic bird being strangled and in death throes. Oh, 90's were so cool.
DeleteOK, if Biophilia opened your eyes, ears, and your criteria overall, what can I say? Better late than never.
Something like "The Purple Bottle" is objectively personal (and subjectively more personal than Bjork's entire ouvre); to accuse an artist of creating 'heartless abstractions' just because you fail to relate to them is pure critical carelessness.
ReplyDeleteA good critic always places honesty before carefulness. I admire some of the heartless abstractions of the AC, but I reserve the right to regard them as heartless abstractions - and I have no problem about anybody else reserving the right to disagree with this.
Delete_'Something like "The Purple Bottle" is objectively personal...'_
DeleteMeaning what - you read some interview in which one of the band members asserted that it's all about the time his hamster died?
"feel cold about most instrumental electronic music"
ReplyDeleteThat's an interesting point. Quite a few lovers of classical music and folk music say exactly the same regarding electric instruments. But my hero recently used an electric guitar in an instrumental piece to say goodbye to Jon Lord. So perhaps Homo Sapiens (like the Apex Twins) hasn't learned yet how to use electronic music to stir up emotions.
I don't understand this idea that electronic music can't be emotional. Jean-Michel Jarre? Vangelis? Tangerine Dream? You don't feel anything in the tense buildup to those inevitable "...DUNNNnnnnnn" chords on Rubycon's first side? You aren't moved by the depression, tenderness, and mystery of the Blade Runner soundtrack? Nothing at all for the serene, almost oceanic beauty of Oxygène? Even those forbidding, computerized Autechre guys have deeply mournful songs like "Rae" and "known(1)" to their name (though certainly not as a rule).
ReplyDeleteI just don't understand how someone who loves music so much, and is so open to its different forms, can have such an apparent bias against some of its most fascinating and resonant expressions.
Seems you mixed up the lyrics to "Hyperballad" and "The modern things"
ReplyDeleteSorry George, and the rest of the folks who like this, ahem, artist.
ReplyDeleteThis is a mental excrement of a spoiled hipster bint, who got more and more deranged with her following albums, and she is where she is today. Nowhere.