Björk Is as Vibrant as Ever on the Moving, Earthy Fossora

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Aside from her unmatched ability to constantly and successfully reinvent herself, one of Björk’s greatest qualities is her deft, poignant interrogations on the complex ties between humanity and nature.

On her previous album, 2017’s lovely Utopia, the Icelandic experimental pop singer envisioned a world beyond ours, contrasting ethereal imagery and feather-light production with her growing concerns about the environment and her lingering grief around her divorce.

Fossora — the followup to Utopia and her 10th overall record, out Friday (September 30th) — finds Björk coming back down to Earth, surveying the decay of our natural world and meditating on its debilitating effect on our own relationships. We don’t take care of our planet, Björk seems to suggest, because we fail to take care of ourselves and each other.

No more is this endless cycle of destruction apparent than on Fossora’s first single and metallic opener, “Atopos.” Against dissonant clarinet and clanging drums, Björk shouts and snarls about our culture’s inability to connect due to our differences. Her steadfast optimism that we will eventually overcome the emotional and social divides that keep us apart pulsates over a cacophony of percussion and woodwind, crescendoing into a chaotic finale that’s as representative of our current societal state as it is off-putting to listen to.

But for those caught off guard or dismayed by the sonic and emotional heavy-handedness of “Atopos,” worry not. Fossora is filled with Björk’s reliably lush, sensual instrumentation and poetic lyricism, at times playing like a thematic and musical companion to its predecessor. Where Utopia earnestly looked toward a better and brighter future, Fossora embraces and even sometimes revels in the flawed and fleeting beauty of the present.

“Atopos” may not inspire confidence to some as the album’s introduction, but thankfully, it’s an outlier in an otherwise engaging and rousing record brimming with sumptuous production and evocative musings on survival, mortality, and motherhood.

“Ovule” luxuriates in trombone, timpani, and booming electronica, while “Mycelia” creates a trippy a capella collage out of Björk’s cut-up vocals. “Allow” recalls Utopia with its breathy and angelic feel, as if Björk and her cohort of flutists recorded it on a cloud at sunrise. Even the brief Icelandic poem “Fagurt Er í Fjörðum” (which translates to “How beautiful it is in the fjords) is executed well, with Björk’s delicate recitation playing gently over a Radiohead-inflected MIDI bassline.

Across its delectable slate of richly orchestrated songs, Fossora’s best tracks are also the most personal. Backed solely by a bassline and Iceland’s Hamrahlid Choir, “Sorrowful Soil” is credited as a eulogy for Björk’s environmental activist mother Hildur Rúna, who passed away in 2018. In addition to its gorgeously minimalist soundscape, “Sorrowful Soil” is a moving, celebratory tribute to the woman who raised Björk, honoring both her contributions as a parent and the nuances of her humanity. “This is emotional textile/ self-sacrificial/ cut through this nihilism happening to you/ you did well,” Björk and her choir sing, their voices swelling into a symphony of harmonious echoes.

Björk also dedicates the album’s longest track, the 7-minute chamber-folk tune “Ancestress,” to Hildur. Over twinkly strings and clamorous percussion, she chronicles her mother’s resilience and her own complicated feelings around it. While expressing gratitude for Hildur’s integrity and nurturing of Björk’s love and eventual pursuit of music, Björk contends with the sometimes daunting responsibility of continuing her lineage, warbling, “By now we share the same flesh/ As much as I tried to escape it.”

As Björk digs deeper into her discomfort around this issue, she oscillates between recognizing the despair of her circumstances while searching for a hope to guide her through them, a contrast that’s reflected vividly and effectively throughout Fossora.

bjork cornucopia
bjork cornucopia

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The cavernous “Victimhood” sways back and forth between threatening and forlorn, identifying the feelings of rejection we experience and how our hearts harden when our traumas go unresolved. The title track calls to mind “Atopos” with its raucous beat, but offers a more hopeful perspective in finding something valuable from the wreckage made by our mistakes (“Even though the ground is burnt / Underneath monumental growth”).

That dichotomy of dark and light comes full circle on the dazzling closer “Her Mother’s House.” Trilling passionately and lovingly once more about Hildur, Björk notes how that dynamic positively influenced her own relationship with her daughter Isadora, whose soothing vocals also accompany the track and cleverly reinforce Fossora’s preoccupation with decomposition and renewal.

The pursuit of paradise may seem like a fruitless exercise in our quasi-apocalyptic times. But for Björk, getting there requires not only learning to live with what we already have, but also finding people who give us strength and restores our faith to keep going in the face of grave adversity. Fossora, which Björk translates as “she who digs,” acts as a life-affirming and frequently engrossing framework for this idea, emphasizing that we must excavate the ruins in our own hearts and souls in order to rebuild the emotional and physical ruins left behind by previous generations.

Essential Tracks: “Sorrowful Soil,” “Ancestress,” “Allow,” “Her Mother’s House”

Fossora Artwork:

Björk's Fossora Artwork
Björk's Fossora Artwork

Björk Is as Vibrant as Ever on the Moving, Earthy Fossora
Sam Rosenberg

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