Bjork’s Utopia: Urgent Levity
You never know her mind and vocal chords will launch into the world next, and that is what makes Iceland’s peculiar icon both an easy target for the unfamiliar and/or cynical, as well the rarest bird of paradise for those willing to listen closely to the arresting chirps emanating from her psychedelic dream-forest. If your mind is open enough, or you’ve been listening to her mind-bending, fever-dreaming labyrinth of albums for long enough to understand her perspective, this is an album that is beyond necessary as both a salve and an escape from the horrors of 2017.
We should probably talk about the album’s art style for just a spell. I appreciate her strangeness on so many levels, but she has never looked more like a visitor from an alternate universe. These images are lovely, shocking, and just plain weird. Would we expect less? No. We love you, but while fans will jump for joy at our muse wearing a turquoise, tasseled thingy while playing a flute, (Also, anyone notice the baby bird sleeping in her neck on the cover? It took me a while), this extraterrestrial set of visuals is not likely to welcome newbies. As much as I truly appreciate the originality, I wish such an amazing set of songs had better branding for those that aren’t among the devout. In my defense, I would never want Bjork to be “normal,” not even slightly, but to have such an amazing work of genius shunned by so many of my friends after a glance at the cover is a shame. It’s the visual equivalent of what happens too often when people hear the (absolutely marvelous genius-goddess) Joanna Newsom’s voice. Minds shut before they have a chance to comprehend, and that’s a shame. I guess the blame does not lie with the artist in many ways, but it’s still a shame.
Anyway, musically speaking, with “Utopia” she veers into new, gorgeous terrain, and that is no small feat considering how long she’s been at this. “Vulinicura,” the album that preceded this conceptually and chronologically, was a sublime dissection of pain. This is the equal and opposite reaction to what many dubbed “Bjork’s Blue,” (if you haven’t heard her cover of Joni’s “Boho Dance,” it is something that is worth finding in every way), and hearing Bjork radiate happiness and hope again warms the heart.
For this endeavor, her friend Arca weaves an astounding fabric of beats through distorted bird chirps, a chorus of 12 flutes, and a truly inimitable voice, among other things. It’s not all sunshine and sparkle-thoughts, (”Sue Me” is a jarring departure from the core optimism of this offering), but as the album opens with “Arisen My Senses,” you get the sense that all really is full of love again.
The title track, along with the remarkably gorgeous “Saint,” and the Medulla-esque “Gate” succeed in conveying the empathy, hope, and love that can seem in short supply in a soul-crushing way if you pay enough attention to cable news, or are feeling isolated from your fellow humans as of late.
Synthesizing mythology, personal experiences, the organic, the digitized, and a once-in-a-century voice, Bjork has created a master class album of the avant-garde. She’s daring us to dream of peace and joy, and urging us to turn our wounds into gates we can “give love from.” As the album closes with “Future Forever,” one of the most stripped-down and inspiring works she has ever created, you are truly left with the sense that we can’t surrender spiritually or emotionally to this crazy world. We are at endless war, the environment is in shambles, and politics are as toxic as ever, but we have to be brave enough to imagine something better. We need our own Utopia in our minds, and we can’t let go of what that would look like. It’s hard to come up with a better rallying cry for these hard times
I once saw an article referring to Bjork’s “radical humanity,” and with this album, Bjork’s humanity has never been more radical or pertinent. In her own words: “Feel this incredible nurture, soak it in.” You will be better for it.
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