Björk

Medúlla (Elektra)

By Amber Drea
Published: September 1st, 2004 | 2:10pm

Björk has always considered herself a pop musician, but with her seventh full-length album, Medúlla, the 39-year-old has truly succeeded in creating her least accessible work since her days in K.U.K.L. — whether she intended to or not.

Medúlla is a welcome change from Björk’s last studio recording, Vespertine. While as gorgeous, meticulously produced, and lyrically vivid as previous albums, Vespertine lacked the musical daring one had come to expect from the Icelandic genius. With Debut, Björk combined dance sensibilities with traditional instruments from all over the world, creating an explosion of off-kilter energy. On Post, she delved deeper into electronic music, exploring the latest technology in sampling and programming. Exhausted from her desire for eclecticism and diversity, Homogenic marked an effort to hone a more cohesive sound, limiting the instrumentation to beats, strings, and voice, and ironically became her most powerful record up to that point. Selmasongs, the singer’s tribute to the musical genre, was from a character she portrayed on screen in Dancer in the Dark. So it was only natural that Björk retreated to the internal, introspective perspective for Vespertine, but the need for self-expression can sometimes overshadow artistic progression.

With Medúlla, Björk soars in a new direction once again. Medúlla has cut to the marrow of the music, exposing the essence and soul of the songs and imagining a time before humans made machines to manufacture them. By no means minimal, its grand scope encompasses the entire world’s cultures and histories in one unified work. With appearances by the Icelandic and London Choirs, Inuit throat-singer Tanya Tagaq Gillis, Japanese vocal percussionist Dokaka, the multi-talented Mike Patton, and a cappella beat master Rahzel, Medúlla has more guest spots than a rap record. Björk didn’t plan it that way, but after adding layer upon layer of instrumentation and live drums, which she played herself, the songs became so buried that she decided to strip the music back down to its origin — the voice.

However, Medúlla isn’t purely about process; the finished product speaks for itself. If there hadn’t been so much hype surrounding its release, I might not have immediately noticed that the album is virtually void of non-vocal instruments. Of course, Rahzel’s mind-blowing beatboxing helps suspend one’s disbelief. Though few and far between, piano, synthesized basslines, and a gong are present, as well as programming by Mark Bell, Valgeir Sigurdsson, and Matmos, resulting in an album that isn’t completely a cappella.

For the songwriting, Björk returned to her roots — classical composition. If it weren’t for her penchant for pop structure, Medúlla could arguably be placed in the modern classical section at the record store, right next to Patton’s Adult Themes For Voice. Singing along is possible, especially on catchy numbers like “Who Is It” and “Triumph Of the Heart.” But the rest prove to be more difficult, especially on tracks that consist predominantly of Tagaq’s vocalizations, which tend to sound like a cat coughing up a hairball. Medúlla is a choir director’s wet dream, ensuring that music theory instructors everywhere will add Björk to their curricula — if they haven’t already. “Vokuro” (originally composed for piano by Icelandic folk artist Jórrun Vidar) could have come straight out of the Baroque Era, and the hymn-like “Submarine,” co-written with the legendary Robert Wyatt, seems inspired by Gregorian chant. Björk uses traditional choral arrangements in a non-traditional way as on “Oceania,” where she samples the swooping siren calls of the all-female London Choir, then filters and injects them into the song to simulate the swells of the deep sea.

Written to be performed at the Athens 2004 Olympics opening ceremonies, the lyrics of “Oceania” subtly convey the ideas of unity and peace. With the ocean personified, she sings, “You show me continents / I see islands / You count the centuries / I blink my eyes.” Just as the oceans gave the Earth life, the concept of giving is the central theme of Medúlla: being the one “who gets to give the most,” showing forgiveness, giving in like elastic, giving back, giving love away, giving shelter, a triumphant heart that gives all.

And Björk has given us another masterpiece — one that transcends the boundaries of expectation and of language (Medúlla is the only full-length that contains songs entirely in Icelandic). She’s given us something that is at once extremely personal and infinitely universal.