By Beth Winegarner
One of Björk's many delightful attributes is her ability to write optimistic, sensual songs that are neither cloying nor clichéd perhaps a difficult task given that the English in which she usually sings in isn't her native language. Her work with the Sugarcubes, and especially her first solo effort, Debut, was filled with cheerful images of sugar-sweet love and an enjoyment of the simple things.
Björk's new album, Post, offers a decidedly different take on the world. It appears the Icelandic songstress has been unhappy, and her new songs show it. It isn't apparent in the new melodieswhich bear some resemblance to her earlier workbut after listening to Post for a while, the listener begins to hear a difference.
"Army of Me," the first single (released along with the soundtrack to Tank Girl) and first track on Post, drops the bottom out with a low-riding mechanic groove that echoes the lyrics' promise of revenge. "Stand up, you've got to manageI won't sympathize anymore," she sings. "And if you complain once more, you'll meet an army of me." "Enjoy," which follows later on the record, returns to a similar auditory theme that grinds down into the heart of all industrial music and comes up still beating: "And I have no fear. I'm only in this to enjoy."
Even the quieter songs are surprisingly harsh. "Hyper-ballad" sounds so feathery and smooth one would never expect the lyrics, which describe a narrator who climbs up to a nearby cliff to throw off random junk every morning before her lover rises. "I go through all this before you wake up," she explains, "so I can feel happierto be safe up here with you." The final verse is especially surprising, sung in Björk's high, lilting moan: "Imagine what my body would sound like slamming against those rockswhen it lands, will my eyes be closed or open?"
"It's Oh So Quiet" forays into big band-style horns, quiet during the verses and blaring through the chorus. It is a fitting complement to Björk's descriptions of what it's like to constantly fall in and out of love. The song could be wonderful if you like that sort of thing, but it's so jarring that it can be unpleasant to listen to.
Modem-like purrs echo in the background of "Possibly Maybe," a slow shuffle that crackles with turntable-style static and Björk's quiet musings about a lost lover she might want back despite his cruelty. "Isobel," one of the album's strongest tracks, flirts with tribal drums and a Slavic string arrangement that give its subject her vibrant descriptions deeper meaning. "My name Isobelmarried to myself. My love Isobelliving by myself." It is a reminder that sometimes we are happiest when alone, self-sufficient, and free of the complications that love with another can provide.
A few of the songs are so wispy and delicate that it's difficult to take hold of their melodies or meanings. "You've Been Flirting Again" is repetitive both lyrically and musically, and the album's final track, "Headphones," seems to fade off even before the album finishes. Despite its powerful subject matterBjörk rescuing herself from a suicidal mood by falling asleep to a friend's tapethe song has so little aural substance it could be easily forgotten. "Cover Me" rescues itself from a similar fate by combining light harp with a subtle backwash of explosions and the most optimistic lyrics on Post: "I'm going hunting for mysteriescover me. I'm going to prove the impossible really exists," she croons.
Despite some drawbacks, Post is a reminder that through pain and endurance comes strength. Life can't be all sweetness and light. Songs like "Isobel" and "Cover Me" reveal a new power in Björk's music and spirit that comes from the painful situations described in other tracks throughout the album. "There's definitely no logic to human behaviour...they're terribly moody," Björk reminded us on Debut. These days, we hear thousands of musicians who are willing to describe their miseries in infinite detail, but too few who can express what they've learned from their experiences. Björk has a few things to teach the world. And she wants to make us dance.
This article was originally published in Addicted to Noise.