Would it surprise you to learn that the new Björk album is full of birds chirping, keyboards gurgling, and the consonant “s” being treated in much the same way a pasta maker treats semolina? Or that the Icelandic icon sings of forests and mountains and souls and “a matriarchal dome”? Or that her latest videos encase her face in rainbow-robot prosthetics, her hair in golden butterflies, her heart in CGI color swirls? Probably not, as this all accords exactly with the overly simple public image of Björk: the SNL fairy, the swan lady, the MoMA exhibit.
However: Maybe it would surprise you to learn there’s a song called “Sue Me,” in which she sings about a court battle over child custody. Perhaps you don’t go to a Björk album expecting to hear her pronounce “MP3.” Or to have her describe visiting a record store, or clubbing in Brooklyn, or using Google.
Birdsong knits together the album’s 14 tracks, generated both by field recordings and synths that emanate at unusual intervals, creating the effect of walking through a cyborg jungle. There’s also a big emphasis throughout on the classical pastoral: woodwinds, harp, and choral singing. This could easily have be the sound of a gentler, more inviting new sound, but it’s actually not. While Björk has never been slavish to rhythmic, structural, or melodic predictability, Utopia’s songs are particularly uninterested in orienting the listener.
For more read the full of article at The Atlantic.
