Bjork Homogenic by: Adam Davy Mon:21-May-07 Label: One Little Indian Year: 1997 WB rating 85 out of 100

I have this ridiculous theory about music. I like to call it the ‘string theory’ and no, it has nothing to do with the somewhat convoluted theory of fundamental physics by the same name (seriously, look it up sometime). Rather, my string theory simply proposes that a purposeful string accompaniment more often than not enhances the perceived aesthetic quality and depth of a musical track.

Okay, look, I never said it was a particularly solid theory, and of course, if the song is a turd to begin with, then no matter how much orchestral shine you put on it, it’s still just a shiny, orchestral turd. However, when the core scaffold of the song has substance to begin with, then I firmly believe the addition of strings will more than likely lead to an incredible production. Consider if you will, the spectacularly illustrative example that is Bjork’s latest album: Homogenic. 

A peculiarly otherworldly visage of Bjork adorns Homogenic’s cover and hints at what to expect on this, her third major studio album since the 1992 dissolution of the Sugarcubes. Her eerily emotionless depiction is achieved using a seamless blend of traditional photography and digital enhancement, and this in many ways serves as a perfect pictorial representation of what Bjork has set out to achieve musically on this album.

You see, Homogenic is very much an exploration of the relationship between the traditional and the digital, and in particular, it exploits the ongoing tension between live instrumentation (notably strings) and various electronic contributions. Consequently, this constructs a thematic tension that lurks just beneath the surface, fuelling a dark emotional intensity on the record, the likes of which might be surprising for fans of Bjork’s previous work. 

Opening the album with urgency is ‘Hunter’, a song in which the sprightly Icelandic explores her emotional development and effectively promotes not only her own newly found emotional maturity, but also that of this record. When she reflects, “I thought I could organize freedom/How Scandinavian of me”, there is a sense of bitterness at the perceived loss of naivety and innocence that forms a significant platform upon which the album’s tone of brutally honest introspection is established.

Of course, it is a Bjork record, so it should come as no surprise that her distinctive vocals should play such an important role. But rather than dominate the production, as they have had a tendency to do in the past, here on Homogenic they serve as a medium, bridging the two worlds of the electronic and the organic. Significantly, what is achieved by this purposeful conglomeration is not so much a marriage of pop/rock, electronica and classicism, as it is a harmonious fusion that never truly seeks to force these genres into reconciliation, but rather celebrates the tension between them. This is an important distinction, as it is the tension inherent in this difference that establishes a fitting accompaniment to Bjork’s more obviously crafted lyrics of suffering and strength.

Perhaps this is no more apparent than on the album’s second track, ‘Joga’. Here, Bjork’s heart pours forth, spilling sadness all over you. On this forlorn ode to eroticism, Bjork sings of “emotional landscapes” and her private “state of emergency”, and as she does so, the emotional pain is palpable. Crushingly beautiful and thoroughly compelling, this is a track that has most effectively drawn on the seemingly disparate influences of electronic percussion and orchestral string instruments, but it is by no means the only one on Homogenic to prove the legitimacy of my string theory. In fact, no less than six of the album’s ten tracks incorporate a combination of these elements.

Of these, the most ostentatious emotional evocation is reserved for the dramatic ‘Bachelorette’, an expansive track that strikes me as undoubtedly the best Bond theme song that never was. Against the backdrop of mournful cello and the authoritative pounding of tom-toms, Bjork describes herself as “a fountain of blood/In the shape of a girl”, and as she continues to recount the pain of a broken relationship, she successfully evokes a curious combination of empathy and sympathy that is perhaps unrivalled on the album.

The album closes with the gentle, ‘All Is Full of Love’, the placement of which in essence quite clearly symbolizes a hope for the future, now that the comparative emotional darkness of the album (and presumably Bjork’s personal life of late) has been effectively dealt with. It is an uplifting way to end an emotional journey that is sure to leave the listener musically challenged, yet fulfilled by its conclusion.

There’s scarcely a dull moment on Homogenic, and whilst is may not be irrefutable proof of my string theory, it most certainly goes a long way in support of it. The interplay between instrumental contributions is restless, and the purposefully sustained issues between electronic and organic instrumentation create a tension that generates and sustains a wonderful energy for the duration of this fascinating record.

If you have appreciated any of Bjork’s previous work, then this album is a no-brainer, but even if you have never been much of a fan in the past, never fear. With the arrival of Homogenic, I suspect you soon will be.