Biophilia.
As ever with an album by the Icelandic goddess, Björk experiments through innovative instrumentation and musical production, for 2011’s Biophilia, Björk released the unique conceptual piece as a multimedia project accessible via app, breaking ground not only on how music is made, but how it is heard. The process of creating music and nature intertwine throughout the record, with the sonic lightning of “Thunderbolt” symbolising sudden inspiration, while the crystallisation and growth on “Crystalline” refers to the composition of music and how Björk builds her songs, as well as the development of personal identity and the conquering of one’s fears. Romantic relationships, a recurring theme in Björk’s work, is present here too: the lunar cycle of “Moon” depicting the repeating patterns of her love life; her embodiment of a parasite patiently awaiting a host on “Virus”; and the symbolism of volcanos, tectonic plates and other geological phenomena for relationships and emotions on “Mutual Core”. The instrumentation is such that no two songs sound the same, though common motifs do emerge throughout: drum and bass / dubstep / break core sections as on “Sacrifice” as well as the aforementioned “Crystalline” and “Mutual Core”, soft string compositions as on “Moon” and “Solstice”, and tracks are more often than not accompanied by a deep electronica bass, achieved on “Thunderbolt” by the profound use of a Tesla coil. Biophilia is a sublime album that proves Björk is a gifted and inventive artist regardless of genre or medium.
Let England Shake.
With this album comes a sense of regret; given I’ve had the opportunity to listen to PJ Harvey albums in the past but rejected them, I now realise what I have been missing out on. Harvey reflects on England’s violent war filled history; alluding to the botched Gallipoli campaign of World War I, from a soldier’s perspective on the brutally somber “All and Everyone” and more retrospectively on the Joan Baez-esque folk track, “On Battleship Hill”; while the landscape on the grotesque “Hanging in the Wire” and the viewpoint of the civilian who’s hometown becomes engulfed in fighting on “Written on the Forehead”, are sufficiently vague enough that the referenced war could be Iraq / Afghanistan / Falklands, take your pick. Harvey discusses her difficult relationship with her country of birth, discussing England’s imperialist past on the melancholic title track; a romanticised, occasionally ironic, nostalgic view on the Velvet Underground / Woodstock rock track “Last Living Rose”; the effect, physically and mentally, of England’s reliance on war to progress as a nation, on the country’s youth on “The Glorious Land”; as well as declaring undying love despite the history on the acoustic “England”. While heavily critical of war, Harvey also criticises the failings in the institutions designed to bring peace, through an Eddie Cochran reference at the end of the ethereal folk rock track “The Words that Maketh Murder”. An eclectic fusion of genres: trip hop beats, ethereal guitars, piano riffs, sampling, string arrangements, acoustic folk, tribal percussion, saxophone melodies; yet never too much at once, Let England Shake is a perfect album if there ever was one, and what’s more you’ll agree the hell out of it.
Bon Iver.
Bon Iver’s self-titled second album is an odd experience. While the not-so-easily deciphered lyrics evoke feelings of vague memories and places like fingerprints on an abandoned handrail, the sound is rather sickly, so much so that it’s only really enjoyable when listening to a few tracks at a time, in it’s entirety is too much. The overuse of echoes and falsetto harmonies give the impression of a child who discovers word art in Microsoft Publisher for the first time and blankets the page in disorientating fonts and designs, an analogy that becomes less relatable with each passing year. Warm, fuzzy, distorted guitar riffs, funky bass licks and a folk harp melody introduce the album on “Perth” and “Minnesota, WI”, this chilled atmosphere remains throughout Bon Iver, broken only by the closing track, the keyboard-driven, soft rock, heartfelt, power ballad “Beth/Rest”. A sense of nostalgia rises through the ambient tones, unintentionally creating a metaphor for the album; revisit these memories sparingly, don’t live your entire life reminiscing about the past.
The King of Limbs.
Radiohead’s eighth release sees the band make a return to the sound of early releases Kid A and Amnesiac; significant use of percussive loops, sampling and ambient sounds recalls the work of Aphex Twin, while still daring to experiment. A constant anxiety hangs over the album with tracks such as the paranoia-inducing “Morning Mr Magpie”, the panicky break-up song, “Feral”, and the isolation of the distorted piano ballad, “Codex”. The eeriness threatens to give way to shear terror throughout but never does so, while the aptly-named closing track, “Separator”, distances itself from the creepiness of the rest of the album somewhat, with a looped, funky jazz drum beat and subtle guitar progression. Among the environmental and naturalist themes of The King of Limbs, Yorke also takes time to reflect on the repetitiveness of the 9-to-5 and the erosion this way of life has on a person with the catchy “Little by Little”. A terrific album born out of not wanting to write chord progressions, but rather experiment with instruments and technology; this record grows on you, or rather burrows itself under your skin like some mutating symbiotic worm that you can’t live without.
Bad As Me.
With his first album of wholly new material for seven years, Tom Waits returns in idiosyncratic and enigmatic style with Bad As Me; a contemporary experimental blues album that, through the eclectic use of instrumentation and blending of genres, is simultaneously familiar yet uniquely original. Waits explores important themes such as domestic abuse on “Raised Right Men”, deterioration of mental health through the loud, percussive “Hell Broke Luce” and, in the wake of the recession and financial crisis of 2008, on “Talking At The Same Time” criticises the way in which millionaire banks were bailed out with the debt inevitably falling upon those in society that can ill afford it. With no new material released since Bad As Me it would appear that this record is Waits’ last, and the artist himself near enough confirms as much with his reflections on his career and legacy on the raspy ballad “Last Leaf”, his lack of regret and utter satisfaction (in contrast to Jagger, Richards et. al) with his life on the bluesy rock anthem “Satisfied”, before ending on “New Year’s Eve”, Waits symbolically ending this chapter of his life and moving onto the next. Always leave them wanting more.
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