Despite its irresistible candy-colored package, Björk’s Volta is not a cellophane wrapped confection suitable for general consumption and immediate enjoyment; as suggested by the variegated pod costume Björk inhabits on the album cover (it’s actually a very cool sticker/seal, so be careful when opening – I accidentally tore one of its disproportionately large blue feet) it is much more like a dormant but promising psychedelic spore. If you’re down for some electronic branch-waving in protest of morally subjective colonial powers, be prepared to (eventually) trip your ass off.
If upon first opening Volta’s unassuming little red doors you feel, as would anyone conditioned to interpret particular patterns of sound as music, assaulted by the apparent cacophony, I would encourage you to wait. Be patient while the pod’s contents germinate in your auditory complex. Every once in a while, between your secular musings, play a track or two at a volume commensurate with your courage, and one day the phantasmagoric pod creature will reveal itself to you.
My moment of revelation happened with “Wanderlust,” in which Björk’s primordial incantations climb over mountainous layers of classical brass, industrial beats, and electronic percussion. My ear’s immediate tendency was to dissect into seemingly incompatible parts what is actually an artfully constructed, amazingly organic soundscape. This is a perfect example of what makes Volta a little inaccessible, but so worth the wait. Appropriately, the song is about leaving the comfort of established paradigms, or rather deconstructing those paradigms in order to follow nature’s law of progress.
Volta’s vivid pod packs all the energy and urgency of Post and Homogenic, as well as the cerebral sensuality of Vespertine. Björk fans will automatically embrace the electro-music box danceability of “Innocense” (beats by Timbaland) and the harmonizing vocal climax of “The Dull Flame of Desire” (duet with Antony Hegarty).
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