We are in luck: Björk is in love. After releasing the dark, inaccessible Vulnicura two years ago, which was about her painful break-up with artist Matthew Barney, the odd, experimental Icelandic singer-songwriter has emerged feeling good again. And giddy. How giddy is Björk? Let’s just say that her 10th studio album is called Utopia and it opens with the sounds of exotic Icelandic birds singing backed by a women’s flute choir. Björk’s voice soars, one moment singing about the beauty and mystery of the world, the next about how fun it is to text favorite song links to your crush. Like much of her past catalogue, Utopia is architecturally huge. Unlike her previous music, it’s airy and happy, like a person suddenly aware of all of the open doors around her.
And let’s face it: We all desperately need an escape to utopia right now. Björk doesn’t return to her indie pop roots on this record, and there’s not really a “single” anywhere on the 71-minute album, but she does deliver a complete landscape to us. It almost acts like a meditation, a walk in the clouds, where you can feel like you have a crush and your crush likes you back, if only for an hour or so.