Let’s face it: since the release of Post in 1995, Björk’s music has been slipping further and further off the rails. She’s never been wanting for a trippy beat or an adventurous arrangement, but in pushing her more extreme tendencies to the fore, she has failed to make a cohesive (read: catchy all the way through) disc, or one not merely designed to “challenge” the listener (like 2004’s all-vocal showcase, Medulla).
No one’s suggesting Björk should stop being Björk and start being Beyoncé, but I must admit, when I heard she was working with genius R&B producer Timbaland, a smile etched across my face. Not because she needs his beats, but because she can benefit from his pop instincts—and maybe re-discover her own in the process. Unfortunately, Volta doesn’t pan out like that. Timbaland, one of several collaborators here, co-produces only three tracks. All are good, though none are highlights for either artist. “Earth Intruders,” a quasi-mystical doo-dah with a dry, percussive rhythm, is (somewhat surprisingly) climbing the singles charts, though I prefer the grimy, synthetic bleat of “Innocence.”
The strongest track here is “Wanderlust,” which resembles 1995’s “Hyper-Ballad,” and is all the better for it. No one else does this sort of early-morning after-the-rave mountaintop musing as gorgeously; Björk simply owns it. Ironically, it’s her overwhelming artistic “wanderlust” that brings the rest of Volta down. Some of the album’s moodier pieces (“I See Who You Are,” “Pneumonia”) have gripping passages, but following their melodic contours is like following snakes through thickets in the jungle. And two songs here are unlistenable. A vocal pairing with Antony (of & the Johnsons fame) on “The Dull Flame of Desire” rings bizarrely true to its own description, while “Declare Independence” is little more than shrill-beat quasi-political sloganeering.
And a little further off the rails she slips ...