Björk
Post

For a traditionalist like me, a die-hard fan of the classics, there is no doubt: music is and must remain "the art of combining multiple sounds according to well-defined rules" (see Zingarelli's dictionary), and not a dull sequence of x or y hammered per minute, nor a syncopated mumble emitted by some ex-thug pulled out of a ghetto to be turned into a star. It's a logical and, I would say, obvious point of view, but it's good not to follow it too rigidly to avoid some negative consequences. In particular, there's the danger of making a tabula rasa of all phenomena born after a certain period (in my case, more or less from the '90s onwards), or developing terrible allergies to certain types of sounds (in my case, certain electronic noises typical of more commercial "dance" music). One risks, for example, never discovering albums like those of Björk, only because they are rich in somewhat plasticky sounds, typically '90s, without taking into account that when there's a certain inventiveness at the base, it's possible to achieve something good even with these means.

Sooner or later, curiosity prevails over distrust, and thus arrives a pleasant yet belated surprise ("Post" is from 1995). An extremely varied album, where the little Icelandic elf jumps with ease from one genre to another, demonstrating enormous vocal versatility, ranging from the lovable chirping like Kate Bush, placed at the beginning of "Hyper-Ballad", to the harrowing seagull screams that lacerate the dark and compact rhythmic base of "Enjoy", a track which is not an exaggeration to define as "Gabrielian". An adjective also valid for the initial "Army Of Me": once past the impression similar to that of a washing machine starting up, you realize that this whirl of sounds is a robust base that serves Björk to best highlight her powerful and incisive vocals. Beneath an apparent cold rhythm layer, direct and engaging musical themes increasingly surface, as in "The Modern Things", a beautiful sustained slow piece that fades into an "old scratched record" effect, an effect we find in almost all of the tender "Possibly Maybe", almost like a reassuring sign of continuity between Björk's "digital" music and that of the analog era, of the good old vinyl records. But the most sublime atmosphere is concentrated in the two and a half minutes of "You've Been Flirting Again", which, like all the most beautiful things, vanishes in a puff, but leaves behind a trail of rarefied orient-inspired harmony, even reminiscent of some chamber music by Debussy. Here, questioning whether what we're hearing is a real string orchestra or some electronic sorcery becomes absolutely pointless: what matters is that a tune like this captivates us. Following, here's another gem: "Isobel", rich in Gershwinian echoes and supported by a decisive yet never invasive rhythm, absolutely refined. Towards the end of the album, the atmosphere becomes increasingly rarefied, with the somewhat more ordinary and commercial exception of "I Miss You". It reaches new age levels in "Cover Me", where the keyboards take on both the sweetness of the harp and the metallic trill of the harpsichord, and even more so in "Headphones", which closes everything in a soft atmosphere of muffled percussion, seemingly dampened on purpose not to disturb. One might say it's the ideal track to fall asleep to, even though that could be interpreted ironically and disparagingly.

Overall, a beautiful album, an offer of rationality and technology serving the welfare of the listener, a proposal coming from the far North, from a land that is just like Björk: all ice on the outside, but full of fire just beneath the surface.