Review Summary: Medulla succeeds as both moving, avant-garde invention and an intriguing commentary on the ever more significant relationship between man and the computer.
Medulla is an avant-garde, electronic album that’s mostly a capella. Wait, what?
After listening through several of the tracks you might be thinking something along the lines of “Oh, I get it! Bjork is insane.” You might be right, but who cares? Medulla represents an incredible foray into the largely untapped expressive wealth of the human voice. People, especially musicians, seem to like confining the range of the voice to the silly, transient inventions such as “words” and “notes”. But Bjork has forced us to remember that our language is ultimately a filtered expression, and that more natural and guttural sounds can be far more evocative.
With its heavy breathing, unsettling rhythmic grunts, and convincing sighs, Pleasure is All Mine let’s us onto the game early, though it’s unable to prepare us for the shock waiting in the rest of the album. With Oll Birtan, we see Bjork’s genius as she builds from gentle cooing to piercing soprano, all the while we feel every subtle start and finish to her vocalizations as they combine in progressive electronica-style layering. Ancestor’s frantic breathing and strained grunts are disturbing and captivating in their juxtaposition with the calm piano arrangement. This is certainly a new take on the tragic piano ballad.
One of the album’s most breathtaking accomplishments is the deep vocal textures that seem to engulf the listener on highlights Submarine and Oceania. In Submarine, smooth, sometimes-ridiculous voices pull us into a fully three dimensional world as they trickle in and out of presence. Oceania offers us organic, flowing vocal currents that we can’t help but follow to their unpredictable conclusions.
Triumph of a Heart and Where is the Line display the minimalist percussive styling of the album, which allows Bjork yet another degree of creative freedom. As is characteristic of such tremendously successful pop/hip-hop producers such as The Neptunes and Timbaland, this rhythmic technique, which refrains from saturating the soundspace with heavy percussion and bass, allows a more dynamic musical feel, helping create tension when beats are missed and leaving room for emphasis when desired.
Not all tracks push to new territories though, and I would argue that this album represents a taming of the typical unrestrained vocal style that seems to dominate some of her other efforts, including Vespertine. However, the relative orthodoxy of tracks such as Vokuro offers a welcome breather. And Bjork’s is not the only talent on display throughout the album. The contributions of the sound engineering duo Matmos are evident throughout – especially in those throaty effects that seem a little too clear and close for comfort (listen to California Rhynoplasty by Matmos and you will understand).
At the end of it all, Bjork has undoubtedly created a unique sound that stands out in the annals of music history, a feat unto itself. But much more than that, she has provided an intriguing commentary on the relationship between the most natural of musical instruments – the voice – and our most inhuman – the computer.
