July 13th, 1993
bjork is one of those artists whose creative process is just insanely interesting to keep up with even when her work itself doesnt always resonate with me. where it takes a lot of artists years to figure out how to stylistically iterate on their own sound in a meaningful way, bjork is capable of doing it with every other song. the sort of outsider sense of intuition that guides everything she does means that her aesthetic almost always feels just beyond articulation. her devotion to it is so strong that anything she puts out rarely feels like a fully concise project and more like a loosely organized collection of her own personal quirks and idiosyncracies. even here on debut, which is more consistent than most of her discography with its house-influenced end-of-history dance club vibes, it still makes room for things like a harp cover of a 40s jazz standard and a track literally recorded in the bathroom of a bar. p much the one consistently defining stylistic element of everything she does is her otherworldly singing voice, floating effortlessly btwn soft and angelic, to grand and operatic, to guttural and untamed, and everything else btwn. her work is so impenetrable to and unbounded by any kind of outside perception that its almost guaranteed nothing she puts out will resonate with me 100%, but its for that same reason that i cant help but respect her.