Björk, for me, is one of those artists where you have the utmost respect for their talent, originality, and innovation. But it's pretty rare that you actually want to listen to their music.
A few others fall into this personal category, mostly experimental and ambient acts like Aphex Twin (although Windowlicker is always good fun), or progressive rock acts. Bar their first album, The Mars Volta's output is far too dense and jumbled for me, and to be honest I can only be arsed to listen to Pink Floyd's more popular material. There are only so many hours in the day.
Actually, I can say the same of most experimental jazz as well. I've tried listening to Kind Of Blue and Bitches Brew, Miles Davis's pair of supposedly seminal albums, but I get four minutes into the first (17 minute) track, and the distinct lack of decent hooks leaves me dying for a blast of Toxic. Or a fishing tackle shop.
I do find a few Björk songs an enjoyable listen - Hyperballad's spacey, crumbled beauty in particular, as well as breakthrough hit Play Dead and the camp theatrics of It's Oh So Quiet, with its revolutionary video. But I am generally happy to appreciate her intriguing ice-siren nuggets from afar.
However, Ms. (bet you didn't know this was her surname!) Guðmundsdóttir's new single, Náttúra, might have stoked my interest.
The song, written by Björk, is a shuddering percussion-fest, like a group of African tribal drummers playing murder in the dark. Over them, little Björk - still as freakishly beautiful as ever - does her usual summon-the-gales vocal act, but, for the first time, entirely in Icelandic.
Most of the other sonic elements come from Thom Yorke, in the form of those splayed, half-asleep mouth movements which characterised much of his band Radiohead's fourth album, Kid A. He and Björk are long-time collaborators, having worked together on her song I've Seen It All, which soundtracked the film Dancer In The Dark.
This is essentially augmented only by a few 'nature' sounds - something that sounds like a building tidal wave or earthquake, far off in the distance - and a few rattling cymbals. And that's it. It's like drum and bass, without the bass.
But it's quite interesting nonetheless, and all proceeds from the sale of the single go to the Náttúra Foundation, which works for the protection of Iceland's stunning natural environment.
A few others fall into this personal category, mostly experimental and ambient acts like Aphex Twin (although Windowlicker is always good fun), or progressive rock acts. Bar their first album, The Mars Volta's output is far too dense and jumbled for me, and to be honest I can only be arsed to listen to Pink Floyd's more popular material. There are only so many hours in the day.
Actually, I can say the same of most experimental jazz as well. I've tried listening to Kind Of Blue and Bitches Brew, Miles Davis's pair of supposedly seminal albums, but I get four minutes into the first (17 minute) track, and the distinct lack of decent hooks leaves me dying for a blast of Toxic. Or a fishing tackle shop.
I do find a few Björk songs an enjoyable listen - Hyperballad's spacey, crumbled beauty in particular, as well as breakthrough hit Play Dead and the camp theatrics of It's Oh So Quiet, with its revolutionary video. But I am generally happy to appreciate her intriguing ice-siren nuggets from afar.
However, Ms. (bet you didn't know this was her surname!) Guðmundsdóttir's new single, Náttúra, might have stoked my interest.
The song, written by Björk, is a shuddering percussion-fest, like a group of African tribal drummers playing murder in the dark. Over them, little Björk - still as freakishly beautiful as ever - does her usual summon-the-gales vocal act, but, for the first time, entirely in Icelandic.
Most of the other sonic elements come from Thom Yorke, in the form of those splayed, half-asleep mouth movements which characterised much of his band Radiohead's fourth album, Kid A. He and Björk are long-time collaborators, having worked together on her song I've Seen It All, which soundtracked the film Dancer In The Dark.
This is essentially augmented only by a few 'nature' sounds - something that sounds like a building tidal wave or earthquake, far off in the distance - and a few rattling cymbals. And that's it. It's like drum and bass, without the bass.
But it's quite interesting nonetheless, and all proceeds from the sale of the single go to the Náttúra Foundation, which works for the protection of Iceland's stunning natural environment.
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