Review Summary: Art beyond the norm of tedious mortal trappings, transfixing our souls and minds to the aether realms.
Reviewing a Bjork album is like reviewing water. We all know what water tastes like, yet we can’t describe the mysterious flavour - it is its own phenomenon. It is outside of the realm of descriptions which we use to categorize and make sense of our reality. Carving her name in the stars as a goddess, Bjork nonetheless reaches down to Earth, to cultivate and nurture our budding mortal feelings. She offers a pillow and dinner plate, as she gently massages our third eye. Every unique sound lays gently in the ear canal, yet also begs for attention, in a sensual way, like the lass in I Dream of Genie. It may be electronics, strings, thunderous percussion, or jovial singing that awaken the senses in a cloud of celestial sugar, instructing us in tap dance lessons with wayward spirits. The result is something sinister like Army of Me and Enjoy or the complete opposite like It’s Oh So Quiet. All are equally valid statements referencing Bjork’s mystifying duality.
The Yin and Yang of the universe beckons prolonged studies. The effect of Bjork’s music thus aids in space surfing, a temporary feeling of being an observer outside of time, watching ant-sized humans skylark in the shadows to no avail. One may categorize Post as a pop album, yet to trap Bjork in human entanglements will not bode well; some animals must be released from cages, indeed, historians would agree that Bjork is a rare specimen. Post is pop in the most basic sense, for the rhythms sway our souls, yet the music transcended notes. It is poetry, it is history, it is nature itself. The sound of a crying newborn and exploding fireworks, or waterfall on a leaf is the sound of Bjork’s voice, and the music subsequently reeks of life itself. This palace of love is an ode to all that is holy and good.
Even when Bjork talks of her obsession with littering, one does not think her crazy, but endearing. The hypnotizing assaugement of her voice changes our minds for us, as beautiful rhythms ensweep us. We must surrender to the glory, we must bow before her, there is no other answer. An eccentric genius - essentially the Einstein of music - Bjork dances about, utilizing with lightning fury, unheard of beats and sounds, reminding us of our short time on Earth as mere mortals. Perhaps if we can match her spectral energy we may feel a change in the tide, a cool wind in our hair for a moment - perhaps that is all we need before we imminently surrender to the infinite jaws of the awaiting abyss. If music is the journey, Bjork is the ferryman ready to transport our tepid souls where they must go. Perhaps in a thousand years we will truly fathom the mystery that is the godhead called Bjork, but until now, I will nestle on the wings of this nymph once more.
