Björk - Volta

When news of collaboration between Björk and Timbaland first surfaced over a year ago, one could, when pressing one’s ears to the surface of the snooty art music underground, almost hear the sudden shortness of breath. Less excitement than fear—fear that one of the avant-garde's most beloved musical icons might be turning into a funnily accented Beyoncé—this energy eventually grew from worry to anticipation, and before you knew it, internet message boards were abuzz with questions aiming to unwrap the mystery surrounding the project: Would this be a (gasp) hip hop record, or something even more offensive to decent taste? Björk’s best-selling album yet? Her most accessible? A return to the danceability of Debut and Post? The product of two massively talented musicians coming together and creating new sounds? The answer, as it turns out, is that Volta, Björk’s sixth solo album, is hardly marked by Timbaland’s presence. This is a Björk record in every way: Extreme, unexpected, frustrating, difficult, and colorful. At times, Volta almost feels like a frenzied collage of elements from her past records, updated and tailored to fit a new theme and image. It combines the energetic, quirky pop of Debut and Post (“Innocence”), the bombastic beats of Homogenic (“Declare Independence,” “Wanderlust”), the introspective whisper-songs of Vespertine (“I See Who You Are,” “Pneumonia,” “My Juvenile”), the earthy grit of Medulla (“Earth Intruders”) and the haunting brass of Drawing Restraint 9 (“The Dull Flame of Desire,” “Vertebrae by Vertebrae”). Other times, Volta simply feels like a quilt of half-stories, sewn together from random noises and tattered bits of old songs, never fully forming a tangible concept. As an entire album, however, listened to start-to-finish, Volta becomes something else entirely. “Wanderlust,” in which Björk joyously wails about “relentlessly craving” to travel and leave her origins behind, becomes the emblem for an album about worldly and personal awareness, a musical map of Bjork’s past, present, and future. Interludes between tracks (fog horns, creaking boats, lapping ocean waves) unify songs and transform Volta into a mysterious, hour-long journey in a leaky houseboat across a diverse seascape of sounds, arriving somewhere predictably Björkish: The unpredictable. [www.bjork.com]