If Bjork’s final act of the nineties was an extroverted, attention grabbing scream of emotion and a refusal to be a passenger in life then her first (and a few might say greatest) act after the millennium was an introspective gentle evolution. Homogenic stands in sharp contrast to her noughties output even though Vespertine may have felt like a musical continuation, because Vespertine is in fact her most introverted release, and perhaps her most refined. I’m not sure what it says about the decade, music or life to turn your gaze inwards and make something so specific (but compelling), so focused on the miniature and mundane moments of ones life, not least mental isolation, but it is an undoubted musical highpoint in the last 10 years. Perhaps it is just an example of the value in ignoring the world and creating one of your own, despite the fact Vespertine is still very much rooted in those indefinable points of reality (see Bjork’s musing on what constitutes a perfect day: 10 glasses of water? A phonecall?).
The evolution is in her song writing, now a more subtle beast ever more carefully counteracted by the electronic undercurrent. The finishing touches on the beats and percussion were applied by uber-muso-geeks, and stars in their own right, Matmos, and their tell-tale experimentation and processed found sounds, acoustic clicks and shuffles are all over the record acting (as well as the footsteps in snow, the shuffling of cards)as an anchor to underpin increasingly lush arrangements . There is no grab your attention stark show stopper like Joga or Hunter, the juxtaposition between the harsh crunching electronics and the emotive strings had gone, replaced by a more synchronised and melodic affair. It is far more minimal and slow burning, a low key moment, to be listened to under a winter sun on headphones – its personal, a listening experience for the individual, a one-on-one affair, and a much underrated thing.
Cocoon (along with the opener Hidden Place) quickly signalled the shift in emphasis. From the quiet clicks, pulses and shuffles of the Matmos beat you realise its something that requires some attention, and as Bjork whispers, gasps and breathes its lyrics of sexual intimacy and an intensely personal, some might say explicit, moment into your ear you realise she has created the only thing she could to reflect this; another intensely personal moment. It doesn’t ‘kick off’, there’s no breakdown, it just drifts in, offers a melody, intricacies and idiosyncracity, then slips away like so many fleeting thoughts and feelings.
Really this is a record that is largely atypical of the decade. It is in no way brash, makes no effort to appease or appeal, but requires you to find space for it. The reason I think Cocoon has some wider significance is, much like Radiohead, its last gasp attempt at subtle and sophisticated music with mainstream indiscriminate appeal. In fact I can remember being a little surprised hearing its performance on Jo Wiley’s live lounge in the middle of the day on Radio 1: because Bjork was still a challenging artist to have on Jo Wiley, because it was a long time since an out and out Bjork hit, because of the sexual nature of the lyrics, and because of surprisingly intimate moment she managed to created even with Wiley’s inane wittering.
So to relapse into repetitive grumpy older man mode, things have changed, and it’ll never happen again (see the lack of attention doled out to subsequent releases and the lack of an obvious successor as well as the inevitable changes in the world), but it’s still, undeniably, a wonderful moment.
GE
