Weird is often an adjective that gets tossed around. It’s kind of a broad term, but yet, it immediately evokes a negative connotation. When something is outside of our realm of normalcy, we tend to label it as ‘weird’ or, unfortunately, elect it as President. Björk, whose music doesn’t fit the criteria of everyday pop music, falls under the former reaction. Because her music is vastly original that can alienate listeners of radio pop, it’s hard to label her as anything but weird. But Björk is a testament to how weird can be interesting and enticing and eye-opening and downright genius. Her unconventional vocal characteristics and constant knack for pushing musical boundaries attribute to her longevity within the music industry for the past 30 or so years.

Normally, we are drawn to music that most closely resonates with our ears. You could like hip-hop, but hate country. You may be an avid rock listener, but loath electronica. I guess that’s why Björk’s music is such an acquired taste; it doesn’t fall under a single genre as she is always exploring new styles and assuming different identities. Just look at her discography and you’ll realize that with each studio album, she has been a different artist with something very different to offer. She played the naïve and kooky girl with her 90s house and ambient-inspired Debut; she was the wide-eyed and bushy-tailed independent spirit with an appreciation for jazz and electroclash bangers in Post; she assumed the role of the loving warrior as she blended theatrical string arrangements with crisp electronic beats in Homogenic—my personal favorite; she was the shy and intimate lover in her hushed and lullaby-evoking Vespertine. She released these albums and personas with perfected craft into the world, which have fared extremely well with critics and her tight-knit fan base. And yet, she is still a polarizing musician among mainstream audiences. Part of it has to do with her musical diversity, another has to do with her extremely unorthodox style of singing influenced by the airy landscape that she is surrounded by in her home country of Iceland.

Björk (pronounced “Byerk…rhymes with jerk”) Guðmundsdóttir was born and raised in Reykjavik, Iceland’s capital. While attending school, she studied classical music and instruments like the piano and flute. Solo walks to and from school influenced her vocal characteristics as she would often sing to herself while trekking through steep hills and low valleys, “…singing quietly when I was next to the lava and then when I’d get up in a hill, the chorus would come and I’d sing louder.” This uninhibited style of singing was initially recognized during her time as a child singer (her actual first album was released when she was 11 and was composed mostly of covers in Icelandic), and then on a more prominent level, her early stints as lead singers for Icelandic post punk bands; the most prominent example being in the globally acclaimed single, “Birthday,” while fronting The Sugarcubes. Backed by quintessential ‘80s jangly guitars that were prominent during the era of noise pop, Björk lets out a howling scream in the chorus that transitions into a growl, and then finally into a high-pitched screech towards the end. Like the barren landscape of her homeland, Björk’s voice is very stripped-down and not super technical. It sounds like someone trying to explore the various aspects and quirks that make up the human voice. You almost have to adjust your ears because you’ve never quite heard a voice like it; it possesses the youthful innocence of a 16-year-old schoolgirl as well as the confidence of an old soul. It’s refreshingly not polished and, instead, transmits raw unadulterated emotion, all the while maintaining perfect pitch.

There’s a moment in Björk’s debut solo single, “Human Behaviour,” in which she perfectly articulates the unique stylings of her sound; at around 2:28, she sings, “And the compass wouldn’t help at all,” before letting out an explosive high-pitched scream that feels like a double-edged sword penetrating your spine. Towards the end of “Modern Things” off of Post, we hear a high-pitched dolphin-like squeal that completely catches us off-guard yet leaves us further intrigued by what we’re listening to. We also see the various ways in which Bjork utilizes strides in technology to further expand the limits of vocal production; on Biophillia and Vulnicura, she incorporates an audio software called Melodyne in order to create harmonies with her own voice, layering various pitches onto one another.

Like her persona, Bjork’s voice is an enigma—it’s untouchable. She can belt out a note and screech in the highest octave, and then, she can simmer down and whisper into the microphone a tune that will have you sink into your chair with its transcendental beauty; if you want the musical version of ASMR, then listen to Vespertine. And being a vocalist from a country in the middle of the Atlantic comes with its own quirks. The way she chooses to sing her lyrics is purposely slow, as she gives special attention to the words of her songs, giving life to consonants and sounds that we never knew existed. Whether it’s through the audibly satisfying R-sounds that she flutters or the gibberish that she effortlessly sings on instrumental breaks, Björk’s voice is undeniably unique and could never be replicated.

Another particular reason why Björk is such a maverick in the music world is that she produces and composes her own material. A drawback to this is that she rarely gets the credit she deserves for the time she sacrifices in order to create something wholly original; all you have to do is look at the landscape of female producers and it’s obvious to know why. Since the inception of charting music, musical compositions have become a playground for male producers: some of the best known include Max Martin, Timbaland, Rick Rubin, Trent Reznor, Diplo, Mark Ronson, Nile Rodgers, etc. Björk interestingly points out how Kanye West’s groundbreaking foray into electronic production with his Yeezus album was only made possible by the producers he surrounded himself with, exclaiming: “he got all the best beatmakers on the planet at the time to make beats for him.” Reading this comment, it’s not hard to agree with what Björk says, for music fans don’t necessarily question or dissect the production of Kanye albums; we see the music that he puts out and instantly deem Kanye a genius of experimental hip-hop mastery. But the reality is that without beatmakers like Daft Punk or Arca, there never would’ve been a Yeezus. The prospect of female auteurs seems to frighten the music industry and journalists alike. In that same interview with Pitchfork, Björk points out how Vespertine was a result of her using her laptop to write music as she collected microbeats for three years that helped comprise the entirety of the album. However, electronic duo Matmos was given higher credit than Bjork after the album’s release, even though their contributions came during the last two weeks of the album’s production.

There’s also the timeless quality to her music. Most people overuse timeless and apply it to anything that’s good or something that people are fond of. Timeless can be synonymous with popular but Bjork is not popular among everyday radio listeners—she has never scored a true hit in the American market. Music that’s deemed popular gets to be played on the radio because it reflects the state of music at the time of release. Today, the prevalence of trap music is reflected in the radio, whereas bubblegum pop was unavoidable in the late ‘90s and early 2000s, and grunge was a staple in the early ‘90s. The one thing that’s consistent in all of Bjork’s music is her ability to deviate from what’s popular and create something that’s solely her own. It’s hard to really put her music into a category, and so, playing her songs on the radio would probably confuse radio listeners, who typically appreciate music that’s spoon-fed to us with a shimmery surface. That’s why you never hear Radiohead on the radio. Her experimentation with different sounds and different themes as well as different collaborators cement her as a constant innovator, for no other artist can quite possibly be compared to Björk. Specifically, she is able blend the familiar with the unfamiliar, utilizing sounds that initially come off as inaccessible to create coherent melodies. For example, Venus as a Boy in Debut uses a broken bottle for its percussion that’s dramatically enhanced by Bollywood strings and Björk’s vocals. The entirety of Homogenic takes the complexities of classical string arrangements—the heart of the album—and seamlessly pairs them with crisp and cutting edge electronic beats—the backbone of the album. Vespertine uses music boxes and combines microbeats with domestic sounds (stepping on snow, shuffling cards, etc.). Volta goes full-on weird by pairing brass instruments with tribal melodies. And Utopia, her latest album, inhabits a bird’s nest with its focus on woodwind instruments and the literal sounds of birds chirping. All of these founding elements within Björk’s discography stem from the emotions that are meant to be conveyed with the respective albums; they are not concerned with blending in with popular sounds.

Björk is not for everyone. At times, it can be frustrating to get a grasp on her style of singing and her lyrics may elicit bewilderment with their use of absurd metaphors. In fact, I remember listening to Homogenic for the first time last year and being so puzzled by its conclusion. I had never heard music like that before. And I was curious. With a drive to comprehend this Icelandic pop artist, I continued to listen to the music and dissect its components. I realize now that Björk gives credit to her listeners. She knows that they are smart. Smart enough to not listen to her music on a surface level. Her music is theatrical, it’s out there, it’s not two-dimensional. Each album is a full-on storybook/cinematic experience with accompanying visuals and binding themes. To this day, I return to some of her songs and discover hidden layers as they are all so meticulously composed. Björk won’t necessarily make you dance on the dancefloor. Rather, she’ll make you think on the dancefloor. That’s why she is timeless, forever challenging the notion of what music can be.

 

Top 10 Favorite Tracks:

10) One Day from Debut (1993) – the lyrical ambiguity blends well with a bouncy synth that’s silky smooth and makes this track one of the most accessible Björk tracks; when she sings “I can feel it,” we feel it too—whatever ‘it’ is.

9) Oceania from Medúlla (2004) – coming from Björk’s most ambitious LP that utilizes the human voice in various forms (beatboxing, throat singing, choirs, etc.), this track is written from the perspective of an ocean as it synthesizes all of life and evolution; the vocal production is brilliant as the background choir genuinely likens to a school of fish gliding around the listener; Björk’s metaphors are oddly intelligent (“your sweat is salty…I am why.”).

8) Heirloom from Vespertine (2001) – crisp tinkering instruments played at a tempo that makes it sound like a samba; Björk is metaphorically quirky in this song as she narrates about a recurring dream she has where she equates singing to releasing glowing lights into the sky; the track’s texture is warm and dreamy.

7) Enjoy from Post (1995) – co-produced by Tricky, this trip-hop banger has Björk detailing the trepidations that can accompany sex; it’s playfully dark and hard-hitting with heart-racing percussions that precede a simple yet abrasive chorus.

6) Notget from Vulnicura (2015) – musically, the most theatrical song off the breakup album; Björk details the long-term repercussions of the end of a relationship, especially on the child the couple shares; when the strings kick in backed by an intense bass halfway through the track, you’re left breathless by its menacingly cinematic tone.

5) Thunderbolt from Biophillia (2011) – a slow-burner of a track that’s wildly ambitious with its use of a Tesla coil as the backing synth; the harmonies are mesmerizing and the track itself contains one of the Björk-est lyrics (“Scrape those barnacles of me!”).

4) Jóga from Homogenic (1997) – epic and grandiose, this track is the perfect example of what the album did so well: uniting opposing musical styles; its beginning contains sweeping strings that provide an orchestral vibe before descending into chaotic, glitchy electronica that makes it sound like a volcano spewing lava to the rhythm—which, of course, was Björk’s intention; the atmospheric outro evokes goosebumps as it feels like Björk is shouting/vocalizing from a mountaintop

3) Venus as a Boy from Debut (1993) – the vocals are on full display in this lo-fi ambient track; the Bollywood strings entice the listener and sound so cinematic  because they were recorded in a film studio; the tongue-in-cheek lyrics gel well with Björk’s flirtatious tone.

2) Stonemilker from Vulnicura (2015) – an impeccable way to open an album; the opening notes perfectly convey the tone that will permeate the remainder of the LP; unlike a typical breakup song, the lyrics detail the events and the emotions that precede an inevitable separation; the dramatic yet enchanting strings in the chorus are further enhanced by Arca’s electronic beats, creating a soundscape that’s heartbreakingly beautiful.

1) Hunter from Homogenic (1997) – it’s one thing to love a song for its catchiness and memorable hook; it’s another thing to love a song because it intrigues the hell out of you; to me, I don’t know what I love the most about the song, but I keep revisiting Hunter because of the craftsmanship; it’s so precisely and meticulously layered, serving as an opening track to an album in which the author announced to the world that she was not just a European pop star, but a musician and a composer who wanted to explore new sounds; the malevolent bassline, icy vocals, skipping electronic beats, snake-like percussions, and militaristic strings are so fun to unpack and digest.