These are the thoughtful, passionate ruminations of a strong woman in love, not the quirkily-cloaked disguises of an expressive yet indirect girl.

 

Björk
Vespertine
(Elektra)

What’s a reviewer to do when the label doesn’t happen to send along the pre-release CD of one of her very, very favourite songstresses? Satisfy herself with whatever the fancy-ass magazines and big-name critics say? Not if she’s adequately opinionated. Resign herself to hearing the album when it comes out in late August? No; let us assume she is a little too obsessive for that. Hunt down the publicist and beg? Nah, too lazy and sulky.

The reviewer in question – oh wait, that’s me! – happened to receive an Italian’ed advance CD of what is alleged to be the Russian version of Vespertine from a friend (thanks, Tenbo). It’s entirely possible that the official U.S. domestic release of Vespertine is a poorly-produced compilation of watered-down Mariah Carey covers, with Christina Aguilera singing backup. But as for that allegedly Russian disc?

My darlings, it is divine. More intimate and moody than her landmark Post album, more subtle and ethereal than the genius orchestrations of Homogenic, Björk’s new release highlights emotion as a lyrical force. These are the thoughtful, passionate ruminations of a strong woman in love, not the quirkily-cloaked disguises of an expressive yet indirect girl. These are the stirring vocalisations of an adult artist, one who can blurt out a cappella "I love him, I love him, I love him" in a beautifully raw manner, rather than hiding behind odd imagery and whimsical stylings.

Don’t worry: Björk is still charmingly peculiar, and her melodic choices are as hypnotic, interesting, and catchy as ever. It’s almost as though Björk has pioneered the 21^st century version of the blues: often quiet, intensely feminine, and consistently powerful, Vespertine debuts a complex and mature aspect of the Björk we know and love. –Tiffany "Fangirl" Lee Brown

 

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