First listen The brutal break-up of Björk’s ‘Vulnicura’, reviewed

When Björk selects a theme or a subject, she explores every tiny detail. Nature came under microscopic view for previous LP ‘Biophilia’, one fragment of an idea being expanded into documentaries, apps and an all-consuming discussion. The 2009 LP was arguably the Icelandic musician’s most outward-looking, where she only occasionally inserted her own experience into the grandest narrative of all. ‘Vulnicura’ is a different challenge. As explicitly stated, this is a record about a torrid break-up, where nothing’s left untouched. Emotions, family, the very fabric of an individual is challenged, and it’s immediately clear that this LP represents a tearing apart process. It’s a struggle, both brutally ugly and stubbornly beautiful in one strange dance.

A completely different challenge to ‘Biophilia’, this time round Björk is attempting to go beyond her own experiences, applying impossibly tough realities to a new perspective. On early listens, it’s clear that she’s achieving this through two direct methods: Venezuelan producer Arca’s never written a single piece of music that doesn’t sound like it’s been handpicked from a century in the future, and his scatterbrained, ghostly beats make everyday emotions sound otherworldly. Then there’s the strings: Björk’s vital tool for expression, albeit one she’s used sparingly since 2001’s ‘Vespertine’. With sheer force, these grand orchestrated parts make an intimate tale sound positively stratospheric. It’s an album that shares uneasy similarities with Lars Von Trier’s ‘Melancholia’, in terms of being able to balance emotions with a story far greater than any single trauma.

That’s the sum of ‘Vulnicura’. Below we explore the record, track-by-track, from gorgeous beginnings to a twisted, confused conclusion.