Bjork’s seventh solo album is a pretty damn strange affair but let’s face it, Bjork being Bjork, it’d be pretty damn strange if it wasn’t. The Icelandic singer has never been conventional anyway – musically or personally – but this time out she’s surpassed herself. Self-produced (though long term collaborator Mark Bell assists on four tracks) and recorded over three years in studios in Iceland, Brazil, New York, London and the Canary Islands, Medulla is yet another radical departure from one of the most interesting and adventurous female recording artists of our time.
Her last record, 2001’s Vespertine, was a quiet and introspective affair and Medulla carries on in that delicate vein – only this time without any instruments. Or at least without any conventional ones. All fourteen songs are almost entirely acappella, though on certain tracks listeners could be forgiven for not realising it. The backbeats and percussion are expertly provided by former Roots member Rahzel, aided and abetted by human beatboxes Shlomo and Dokaka (English and Japanese, respectively).
An Icelandic choir was specially assembled for the choral harmonies, and the London Choir also contribute. Programming duties are handled by U2 collaborator Jake Davies, Mum’s Valgeir Sigudsson, Ensemble’s Olivier Alary and San Francisco-based experimental duo Matmos.
Add in classical vocalist Gregory Purnhagen, Inuit throat singer Tanya Tagaq, veteran English art-rocker Robert Wyatt and Faith No More’s Mike Patton and the resulting sound is, well, pretty much unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. Think Bjork’s voice over David Bowie’s Low with a ghostly choir in the background . . . and you’re less than a third of the way there.
Brian Eno had nothing to do with it, but his influence permeates throughout. It’s strange sounding from the off, opening with the eerily beautiful ‘Pleasure Is All Mine’. ‘Show Me Forgiveness’ follows – just Bjork singing on her own and elongating every word (“Show me forgiveness for losing faith in myself”). This is probably as close as we’ll ever get to hearing her sing in the shower. It segues nicely into ‘Where Is The Line’, which is when the choirs properly kick in, and Rahzel and company get going on weird bassy and percussive vocals.
She sings in Icelandic on the Jorunn Vioar penned ‘Vokuro’ (which translates as ‘A Waking Calm’ apparently) and, while she could be singing a shopping list for all we know, it’s still one of the most gorgeous tracks here. The quirky ‘Oll Birtain’ (‘All The Light’) follows and then we’re into what’s probably the most accessible song on the album, ‘Who Is It (Carry My Joy On The Left, Carry My Pain On The Right)’.
I could go on attempting to describe the songs but really they have to be heard to be understood.
Suffice to say, experimental and ethereal, this is highly unlikely to dominate the daytime playlists, though you can definitely expect to hear the likes of John Kelly and Donal Dineen playing it for months to come. Whatever about its commercial potential though, artistically it’s a resounding success. Unsurprisingly, she’s not going to tour this album and is apparently already hard at work on her next record.
Where she goes from here is anybody’s guess, but Medulla will be hard to surpass.