Bjork Volta by: Adam Davy Mon:18-Jun-07 Label: Welhart Year: 2007 WB rating 48 out of 100

In poetry, the term ‘volta’ is used to refer to a change in subject matter. Volta is also the name of the Italian physicist who invented the electric battery. This unusual moniker therefore seems appropriate for Björk’s latest offering because this, her sixth studio album, most certainly seems designed to evoke connotations of both change and energy.

The album cover offers the most immediate suggestion that Volta represents a dramatic departure from the comparatively somber artistic tone of Björk’s two previous albums Medulla and Vespertine. Absent are the dark, eroticised overtones of these past releases. Instead, upon the vibrant red digipak casing of Volta, we are presented with an absurdly garish and asexual Björk, dressed in a rainbow that wouldn’t look out of place on children’s television. Ridiculous to the point of enigmatic, it is just the kind of otherworldly visage that Björk clearly enjoys indulging in. As a general rule, such cover imagery also often functions as an appropriate visual translation of the accompanying musical release, and to some extent, this is true of Volta.         

Opening with the wonderfully enthusiastic ‘Earth Intruders’, Björk revels in a playful energy that is infectious and, driven as it is by the beats of the talented Timbaland, the track excels in promoting a feeling of raw and incessant intensity. In a cathartic burst of pure ecstasy, the Icelandic songstress lets loose with a guttural growl about the beast “with many heads and arms rolling/steamroller!”, and one can’t help but join with her in a forceful tirade against humanity’s desecration of poor old Mother Earth.     

As if to prove that the excellence of ‘Earth Intruders’ is no fluke, Björk collaborates with Timbaland twice more on Volta, and the results are equally rewarding. One of these collaborations, ‘Innocence’, is the most pop-infused track on the album, and for this reason it is perhaps the most readily accessible of Volta’s compositions. A punchy, energetic affair, ‘Innocence’ is also one of the most lyrically satisfying songs on Volta. An ode to fear, Björk gaily spouts that “fear is a powerful drug/overcome it and you think/you can do anything!” It is a convincing message, and ‘Innocence’ succeeds by virtue of Björk’s apparent honesty and conviction. 

Lacking the obvious trademarks of Timbaland’s other collaborative offerings on Volta, ‘Hope’ is nonetheless appealing, even if it does take a little more time to warm to than both ‘Earth Intruders’ and ‘Innocence’. More flamenco groove than outright dance, the mellow clavichord creates a soft warmth which deceptively masks a philosophical debate that sees Björk muse over the ethics of a suicide bomber who pretends to pregnant in order to kill her target. She posits, “what’s the lesser of two evils/if her bump was fake or if it was real?” It is a relatively brief, but powerful message that is delivered in a gentle manner so as create an uncomfortable incongruity that serves to provoke thought on the issue.

Unfortunately, this intelligent and provocative songwriting is not apparent on all of Volta’s tracks. In contrast to those songs mentioned above, ‘Declare Independence’ is an obvious low-point on the album. An abrasive and uncomfortably simplistic foray into electro clash, the song lacks any trace of subtlety, and even Björk sounds a little one-dimensional as she repeatedly drones on about “raising the flag” and “declaring independence”. Unfortunately, every aspect of this track reeks of such uncharacteristically embarrassing naivety, that as it gradually devolves into a noisy, screaming mess, it arouses disappointment and distaste.

However, as awful as ‘Declare Independence’ is, at least it manages to evoke some response (laughable as it may be). Perhaps the biggest criticism to be made of Volta is that too many of the songs fail to attract and hold the listener’s interest. Songs like ‘My Juvenile’ and ‘Pneumonia’ are meandering and ultimately forgettable. Björk’s duet with Antony on ‘The Dull Flame of Desire’ is only marginally more interesting, although the appeal of this song rests largely on a willingness and/or ability to overlook any personal dislike of Antony’s crooning voice (something which I had neither the capacity or motivation to do). Despite sweeping strings and huge flourishes of sound, clocking in at nearly eight minutes, ‘The Dull Flame of Desire’ is really just dull, and on more than one occasion, the skip button has been called upon accordingly.
 
From a technical perspective, most of the songs on Volta have been wonderfully crafted, but there is a lingering question surrounding the aesthetic quality of much of this production. It would be folly to anticipate, or even desire, easy listening from the Icelandic songstress, but too often Volta seems to lack direction as it meanders through the fantastical world of Björk’s mind, whilst only too rarely eliciting anything exceptional or noteworthy.

A long time supporter of Björk’s work, I’ve often argued that hers is the kind of music that requires time to absorb, digest, mull over and ultimately, appreciate. Unfortunately, at least half of Volta makes this an unappealing prospect, and although some may feel obliged to give some leeway based upon the quality of Björk’s previous offerings, the thought of repeatedly listening to this album in its entirety is rather unappealing. At times gratifying, yet too often boring, Volta is quite clearly a mixed affair, and despite a few standout tracks that will almost certainly feature on the ipod playlist, this album ranks in as a disappointing entry in Björk’s otherwise outstanding discography.