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Volta >>

Björk's main asset as a musician is her fearlessness. Since the end of the Sugarcubes and the pop-dance of Debut, she has released progressively more experimental records. But after well over a decade of going further and further out, Volta steps back. Make no mistake; this is Björk, and so it's still fabulously weird. Like 2004's mesmerizing Medúlla and the 2005 soundtrack for Drawing Restraint 9, the songs are blissfully peculiar, with narratives about love, offspring, aliens...you name it. Yet melodically and philosophically, Volta recycles more than it innovates; the driving pulse of "Declare Independence," for instance, reminds us of Homogenic's "Pluto," and the lead single "Earth Intruders" sounds like Post's "Army of Me" on steroids. And just as Medúlla oriented itself around a certain instrument--the human voice--this one concentrates on horns.

Still, the transition between her early work and the avant-garde bender she's been on since Vespertine is pretty harrowing, and it's satisfying to hear Björk revisit her more accessible self. Uber-producer Timbaland pitches in here and there, most successfully on "Innocence," which uses a fat, disjointed pulse to drive the euphoric vocals forward. Elsewhere, the hyperactive sitar sample on "I See Who You Are" provides texture for the song's theme of enjoying each other while there's still "flesh on our bones." And "Pneumonia" makes fantastic use of the horn section with a soft arrangement that compliments the song's lyrical melody.

So while it's a bit of a stall, Volta is a lovely pause. It reminds us how much we appreciate the laboratory of Björk's imagination, but also how much we missed her back when she was just goofing around. --Matthew Cooke

Vespertine >>

Ever since Björk's vital, effusive 1993 debut, her music has been increasingly intimate, gently private, and concerned with seclusion. It's typical then that Vespertine's first single is called "Hidden Place." The studious solitude is rewarding, though. Vespertine is a lush, gorgeous swell of midpace electronica, symphonic strings, and Björk's uniquely alien, spectral vocals. There are fantastical wonders here. "Cocoon" (another eulogy to withdrawal from the world) is delicate as a breath, Björk sounding too fragile to be flesh as she lauds "a beauty this immense." "Pagan Poetry" and "Aurora," likewise, are adrift in an enchanted reverie. When she chooses, she crafts killer tunes; "It's Not up to You" is as lovely as anything on Post. Yet, frequently, on such tracks as the yearning, glancing "Undo," Björk seems to be simply thinking aloud, reveling in this wildly rich and visceral music. She's reclaimed cutting-edge electronica, so often the province of geeks and technicians, for the poets and the passionate. Vespertine is a landmark, a revelation, and a truly fabulous achievement. --Ian Gittins

Debut >>

Her first album following the breakup of the Sugarcubes, Debut is Icelandic trickster Björk's statement of purpose: bringing curious experimentalism to the dance floor and putting her startling, expressive voice front and center. Her perspective is a little alien--it's no accident that the first song talks about "getting close to a human"--but her leveling of genre distinctions has some wonderful results, especially the eroticized easy-listening reggae sway of "Venus As a Boy." Paired with producer Nellee Hooper (of Soul II Soul), she comes up with a series of invitingly artificial settings for her pipes, built from late-night beats and peculiar timbres, and sings like she's overwhelmed with joy from all her senses. --Douglas Wolk

Homogenic >>

Headline-grabbing personal upheavals turn into introspective surges on Homogenic, the third album by Icelandic singer Björk. Driven inward after a bizarre year accented by a much publicized mail bomb, airport cat fight and brawl between ex-lovers Tricky and Goldie, Björk gets lost in a wash of strings and minimalist techno patterns on her latest outing. The eccentricity and stylistic schizophrenia of Debut and Post have been cast away in favor of darker, more sublime edginess. Filled with songs about paranoia, heartbreak, and lost faith, Homogenic not only showcases more mature themes, but a more uniform mood. Notch that up to Björk's decision to produce the album herself. Aside from a few nominal collaborations with Mark Bell of obscure techno outfit LFO and the Icelandic String Octet, this is the purest representation of the artist's vision. Little did we know that such a quirky personality would have such a bleak world view. Homogenic is almost too heavy to take in sitting, and songs, like the grating "Pluto," are downright unlistenable. But there are moments of inspiration that burn through the dark clouds, particularly on the contemplative "Joga" and the uplifting "Bachelorette." --Aidin Vaziri

Greatest Hits >>

Compiled via a fan survey conducted on her Web site, Björk's Greatest Hits eschews presenting the tracks in chronological order, making for a jumbled ride through the vocalist's unique, twisted, and frequently brilliant discography. A few welcome surprises surface, including EP remixes, a rarity (the 1993 David Arnold collaboration "Play Dead"), and the previously unreleased "It's in Our Hands," a clever blip-pop number that would have fit nicely on either 1997's Homogenic or 2001's Vespertine. Starting off with a dreamy remix of "All Is Full of Love," the collection contrasts giddy dance-pop like "Hyperballad" (from the wonderful Post) with the brooding thump of "Army of Me" and Debut's "Human Behaviour," while injecting liberal doses of experimental ballads such as "Joga" and "Pagan Poetry." Some choices will grate on the nerves of purists (the sans strings mix of "Hyperballad"), and it would have been nice to hear something from Selmasongs, but with Björk's incredibly consistent discography to work from, it's impossible to screw up a retrospective compilation such as this. --Matthew Cooke

Drawing Restraint 9 >>

When Björk became romantically involved with art-world darling Matthew Barney, the universe seemed to be uniting two of the most idiosyncratic artistic temperaments of the 21st century. The first major artistic product of this union, Drawing Restraint 9, music composed by Björk for Barney's film of the same name, finds their sensibilities eerily complementary. Barney's previous films, the megaton, five-part Cremaster Cycle, astounded audiences with a personal mythology inspired by the biological process of prenatal sexual differentiation, touching themes as unsettlingly diverse as speed metal, auto racing, Freemasonry, and Harry Houdini. Barney, a former model and football player, has always been interested in expressions of physical strain and release. This coincides quite nicely with the work Björk has produced lately, namely her album Medúlla, which was composed entirely of human voices--singing, coughing, grunting, and beatboxing. The intersection of these two artistic geniuses comes at precisely the right time, when Björk has cast off the last vestiges of her dance-floor self. To understand how remarkable a transformation this is, one might try to imagine what it would have been like if Donna Summers had turned into Yoko Ono.

There are instances of Björk's vocal soundscapes on this album, in the unsettling "Pearl" and the rainy and overdubbed opening of "Storm." Other tracks, filled to overflowing with bells and chimes, recall her most beautiful work on Vespertine. It used to be that Björk could chill the spine with a howl. Now she does it with a whisper, and these soft and haunting moments are what reward repeat listenings. With the music she produced for the soundtrack to Dancer in the Dark, Björk followed a more or less traditional narrative thread, stringing the songs together in such a way that one could follow a story even without having seen the movie. It's not quite that simple with Drawing Restraint 9. Without seeing the film, the music suggests a fascination with oceans, Japanese ritual, and the hidden powers of nature. It's spellbinding and confusing music, hinting at greater art to come from two artists of intense creativity and passion. --Ryan Boudinot

More Björk and Matthew Barney at Amazon.ca

Medúlla	Vespertine	Selmasongs: Dancer in the Dark
The Cremaster Cycle: The Order (DVD)	Matthew Barney: The Cremaster Cycle (hardback book)	Matthew Barney: The Cremaster Cycle (paperback book)

Post >>

This Icelandic marvel is such an original that, even after four Sugarcubes albums and a brilliant solo Debut, she remains an acquired taste. "Army of Me" is a turbulent, darkling tune that's almost conventional next to the gloriously eclectic material that follows. Working with Tricky, Soul II Soul/U2 producer Nellee Hooper, and string arranger/one-hit wonder Deodato, Björk looses her helium-fueled voice and surreal wordplay on Gershwinesque pop (the adorable "It's Oh So Quiet"), ambient dub ("Possibly Maybe") and all kinds of fresh dance/pop hybrids ("Enjoy," "Hyper-Ballad," "I Miss You"). Too raw and adventurous for mass success, perhaps, but a more unique, engaging, oddly accessible artist just doesn't exist. --Jeff Bateman