Medúlla, and: Sinaa (review)

A comparison of Björk's compact disc Medúlla and Tanya Tagaq's disc Sinaa is at once an obvious and a highly unusual "folklore" assignment. Both CDs build on the vocal "traditions" of Inuit throat singing (which is Tagaq's métier). At the same time, these particular songwriters are so experimental as to defy an emphasis on traditionality at all. The Icelandic superstar Björk Gudmundsdottir invited Canadian Inuk Tanya Tagaq Gillis to tour and record with her in 2001. It is easy to suggest that Tagaq was heavily influenced by the experience and based her solo recording debut, three years later, on the model of Björk's Medúlla, but it is pure conjecture as to how the influence flowed from one to the other. Their interest in vocal production, the visceral sound of the body—its breath, its cries, its sleeping sounds, its sensuality, its overt implications of animality—is arguably the most obvious point of connection. The audible electronic manipulation of the voice is equally a part of their shared interest in production. They are both consciously cyborgian, as the cablelike hair imagery of each album cover emphasizes. Their delight in the textures of different languages is another commonality; both albums include English-language material, songs in the singers' mother tongues (Icelandic and Inuktitut), as well as vocable-based segments and tracks. A final point of comparison: Tagaq can sound almost as fragile as Björk.

Björk's fifth album, Medúlla (Marrow) is virtually a cappella. I say "virtually" because the use of electronic mediation is itself a sort of "instrumental" presence—sometimes the source of a synthesized rhythm, as at the end of "Oll Birtan," and sometimes a mediator that alters the space and sound of the voices. Björk chose collaborators noted for their vocal versatility. Tagaq cowrites and performs "Ancestors" and contributes to several other tracks on the CD. Three hip-hop artists specializing in vocal percussion provide beats: Japan-based Dokaka, British-based Shlomo, and U.S.-based Rahzel. And classically trained baritone, Gregory Purnhagen, along with rock musicians Robert Wyatt and Mike Patton, are heard on multiple tracks. All three are noted for their vocal prowess and spirit of experimentation with vocal effects. Two choirs, referred to as "The Icelandic Choir" and "The London Choir," participate in several tracks, perhaps nowhere more dramatically than in the wavelike vocal swoops of "Oceania" (a song that does not reference the geographic area but rather the world of the ocean). This is probably the best-known track, since Björk performed it at the opening of the 2004 Athens Olympics; several videos of that performance are available on the Web site YouTube. Complementing all these voices are the programmers: Valgeir Sigurdsson, Mark Bell, Olivier Alary, Jake Davies, and Björk herself.

There is symmetry in the subject matter of the texts. The first and last songs applaud generosity of spirit ("who gets to give most" or "the triumph of a heart that gives"). Adjacent songs address deeply emotional issues of human relationship ("Show me Forgiveness," "Where is the Line?," and "Mouth's Cradle"). The imagery of a middle group of tracks (7, 8, and 9) takes us to far-flung environments of sky and ocean. Contrasted with these is a setting of e. e. cummings's "Sonnets/ Unrealities X" and the vocable text of "Ancestors." Since I do not know the language, I am at a loss to comment on the Icelandic tracks, except for "Vokuro" (Vigil), which several Internet sources describe; one source labels this gentle four-part tonal setting by the female composer Jorunn Vidar (b. 1918) as a lullaby. The fact that some Icelandic texts are not translated is, in itself, worth pondering. Does the artist like the aura of mystery that accrues to being incomprehensible to large segments of her audience? Does this consciously indicate how global music is still understood only locally?

The range of styles on this eclectic...