Artist: BjorkAlbum: MedullaRelease Date: 2004 / 30 august 2004Label(s): One Little Indian (Europe)Polydor / Universal (Asia / Europe)Elektra (Us)D-load Link: http://rapidshare.com/files/9271352/Medulla.rar.htmlPass: krujkaReview (http://www.ugo.com):When I first listened to Bjork's new album, I was at a loss for words (rare occasion, trust me), so I decided to play a few songs for some folks at work. I was given various responses: "It sounds like nails scraping down a chalkboard," "That is angelic," "Please turn that off," and "Who is that? I like it." One unified, happy little answer was not given me from my co-workers, so I took my CD back into my office and listened to it again and again. In the end, I discovered they were all a little right and I can only describe Bjork's new album as screechingly melodic.Medulla is just as complex and puzzling as trying to read the title on the artist's necklace in the album art. When Bjork was still with The Sugarcubes, she was attempting to invent a new, yet unnamed, musical genre even then, but with the release of her fifth solo studio album, she continues her quest. The tracks aren't so much music (as traditionally defined with instruments, patterns, and harmony) as they are an experiment in voice. Bjork not only utilizes her own, but those of The Icelandic Choir, The London Choir, Rihzel of The Roots and Mike Patton, formerly of Faith No More. Each vocalist seems to be using every possible sound that can be emitted from a voice box, including a capella singing, grunting, yawning, snoring, breathing, groaning, whispering, whining, and hyperventilating to create the instruments for her songs. Although the effect is initially distracting, after listening to the songs a few times, I started to hear the musicality of the overlaying of grunts and moans and forgot there weren't many actual instruments. Bjork's singing style, however, has changed very little; she still is the queen of the inaudible. Her words float from the almost-formation of a word into the wailing, passionate expression of her soul. Several of her songs are sung in Icelandic, but this oddly set me at ease. Since there was no hope of understanding what she was saying or to learn the lyrics, I could just sit back and be encompassed by the music. This same calming effect happens with the use of her usual nonsensical lyrics. Take, for example, the song "Oceania." Bjork wrote and performed this piece for the opening ceremony at the Olympics in Athens. Wearing a huge, bubbling blue dress that slowly opened as she performed. Bjork belted out, "Every boy is a snake is a lily / Every pearl is a lynx / Is a girl." I have no idea what this means - maybe I am just not deep enough - but it takes a certain amount of listener guilt away knowing I don't have to figure out the deeper meanings.In several songs, such as "Oll Birtan" and "Triumph of the Heart," the vocal noises are often not harmonious, but contrasting in such a way that they end up beautiful; kind of like peanut butter and banana sandwiches, a pretty gross idea but tasty when you finally try it. In "Oll Birtan," she meshes alternating octaves of various yelling with softly sung "doo-doos" that, eventually, all work together to make a song that you just can't get out of your head.The entire album isn't filled with beat-boxed songs; there are two notable pop single potentials that allow this creative, daring experiment to be released on a major label. "Where Is the Line" and "Who Is It" both have the layering of noises and vocals that make this album unique, but they are backed up by traditional Bjork electronica keyboards and percussion. They both also contain the familiar pattern of verse-chorus, verse-chorus and the music that doesn't deviate without notice like so many of her other songs do. This isn't to say that this makes these songs less creative or enjoyable than the others; they are just the most accessible to the radio masses and are reminiscent of worldwide successful singles like "Human Behavior" or "Volumen." Bjork has a talent for pressing the artistic envelope just enough not to alienate her fans, but to make them re-evaluate what music is and can be. Bjork's work isn't a gimmick; it isn't J.T. beat boxing on Dirty Pop hoping to show versatility to help his solo career. Bjork's motives seem purer, more of a necessity to explore herself and her art. Her genuine need to push the envelope makes the occasional odd transition or painful note a little more forgivable.