‘Unpredictable’ is a word often thrown around in reference to Björk, whether she’s attacking photographers or collaborating with Timberland. Turns out, her live show is just as worthy of that adjective as her personal life is.
Tonight, it feels like she’s declared the Apollo as an independent state that’s way in advance of our own, as she’s brought a diverse new population, hung flags adorned with fish and flags from the ceiling, and is using equipment that seems to be light-years ahead of what anyone else can get hold of.
The current population, centred entirely on the stage, consists of a suit-and-tie-wearing middle-aged pianist, three guys covering beats, electronics, and all that technical jiggery-pokery, and a dozen-strong Icelandic brass band who look like a more psychedelic version of the ‘knights who say Ni’ in their coordinated earthy-coloured outfits with flags protruding from the shoulders.
Yet amongst all this, this little impish wonder with an impossibly large voice still dominates the proceedings, wearing a slightly more fashionable version of Joseph’s technicolour dreamcoat and dancing like a mentalist to set opener ‘Earth Intruders.
The most striking thing to note, however, is not the insane outfit, but the scope of dynamics used. Whilst ‘Earth Intruders’ is a veritable wall of sound, the phenomenal version of ‘Wanderlust’ seems almost skeletal, applying beats low enough not to overwhelm Björk’s voice but still strong enough to resonate from your toes to the ends of every hair on your body.
‘Vertebrae by Vertebrae’ is beautifully delicate, but ‘Innocence’ brings you back to the feeling that you’ve stumbled across an alien territory set in the future. Throughout the gig, every sound is clear and distinct, every noise considered and carefully delivered, and the overall effect is astounding.
Add the stage setting and general goings-on to this use of sound, and you end up with one very theatrical gig. Björk hops around like a mystical being, spraying webs out from both of her hands (yes, in a Spiderman style) at one point, whilst three large screens constantly show what the programmey-dude (technical term) is doing. This includes using what appears to be a musical version of Tetris as well as the awe-inspiring reacTable, a thingamabob that controls synth modules by placing little blocks on a tabletop.
It makes me feel like my Grandma must feel while she watches other people programme the video.
The final song somehow turns into an impromptu rave, with lasers and oppressive beats forcing everyone, and I do mean everyone, to stomp and move along with our newly-accepted leader.
The encore ends with what can only be described as an incredible rendition of ‘Declare Independence’ that again slips into rave-mode, this time with all the hallmarks of a propaganda rally: the crowd is chanting ‘higher, higher’ and punching the air, the programmey-dude is pogoing behind the desk, and even Mr Suit-and-Piano is hammering his fists to the crowd. The song reaches crescendo, Björk goes to her home planet, and the audience is left gasping and wide-eyed.
Ladies and gentlemen, Björk Guðmundsdóttir: unpredictable, irrepressible, and absolutely unbelievable.