Described by Björk as "about being on your own in your house with your laptop and whispering for a year and just writing a very peaceful song that tiptoes," Vespertine is an intricately layered, delicate, and supremely sensuous album. Vocals rarely rise above a whisper, and the music that flows forth from the albums twelve tracks are intimate and seductive in the slightly alien way that is Björk’s trademark. Listening to this album, I felt as if I were with Björk personally inside of a geothermal gingerbread cottage on the outskirts of Reykjavik, the room lit by the soft glow of a crackling fire, the two of us sitting on a fake gazelle-skin rug, discussing big-time sensuality and designing future crop circle formations.

One of the true beauties of this album are its intricate beats, courtesy of longtime Björk collaborator, electronic sound wizards Matmos. The pair’s delicately constructed beats, crafted from shuffled cards, cracking ice, and the snap-crackle-pop of Rice Krispies, go well with the overall theme of Vespertine, an album that sings the praises of the beauty of tranquility.

I can only recommend “Vespertine” in the highest of terms, not merely because Vespertine is a gorgeous album, but because Björk needs to be encouraged to continue making music, keeping her far, far away from the world of film. Purchase this album not merely for its spacious, all-encompassing beauty, but because each copy sold puts more distance between the lovely Björk and the odiously bad “Dancer in the Dark,” a film which is an ugly wart on the otherwise divine artist’s career.

Joshua Samuel Brown, 2002