Bon Iver: i,i Review

 

For a couple albums it seemed like the quiet route would ultimately define Bon Iver's (Justin Verner) career, having massive talent but forgettable albums in a weird extended sophmore slump. I'm alone in that thinking because a) people obviously love his music, and b) he's never been as quiet as his reputation suggests. That was extremely clear when 22, A Million came out, blowing the doors off the hinges with.....mostly sleepy music behind rap production. Again, I'm alone in thinking this was a letdown, especially when Deathbreast was such a damn good banger.

I did get my wish this time around: Iver doubled down on the marriage of his personal brand of folk and rap, and they feel more than adjacent. He's made those rap inspirations in his own style; what normally is built to support someone speaking with intensity and intricate cadence has been rebirthed to follow Vernon's woodsy aesthetic. Even better, Justin has taken a step forward in songwriting to allow for more uptempo songs, and has adjusted his vocal stylings to boot.

In another perfect marriage of music and album cover, there's layer upon layer of stuff, packed in like overlapping memories. Never does this sound like an electronic album--it's too organic for that. It more sounds like pie slices of records have been hewn, rearranged with other album slices, and remelted together. Sometimes this sounds like the music is skipping around, sometimes it sounds like the vocals came from different songs altogether. Beeps and boops, scratches, sped-up sections, it all comes together so much better than you'd think it could. There's a lot to distract, but at the core, this is still the Bon Iver we have always known. You can hear it on Holyfields as he swells in the refrains, on Hey, Ma in trademark 20x-tracked vocals, and the delicacy he brings to Faith. There's no mistaking Rabi for anyone else. Sometimes it's new, weird instruments, sure, but a few listens in and you'll hear how comforting and solid these tracks still retain from yesteryear's Justin Vernon.

When it doesn't sound like the old stuff, it's rare that it misses the mark. Naeem almost plays like a gospel song, but avoids the familiar choir route for something leaning more orchestral when the horns come in. U sounds a lot more traditional in a mimicry of a hymn, but the measures feel jumbled up as the piano jumps between alternating chords. We might be the closest thing to the previous album's Deathbreast, which I'm happy to have (but it's not quite as good).

There's an interesting mix of directness and total obscurity within the lyrics of this release. The movement between both sides makes for an album you want to maintain an open mind while listening, as you form your own interpretations and connections. iMi is effectively the opener track, and it makes one hell of an entrance for this newfound confidence. "If it don't happen like that, well, then it don't happen at all" is as finalistic a line as I've heard, and it's a sentiment that holds throughout. U stamps down pretty hard on alpha culture, enough that my decidedly non-alpha self felt shame. Of the many lamenteous songs, rABi might hit home the most for me, but I could see so many other tracks serving the same purpose for others.

When songs are hard to decipher, it's a good thing Bon is able to bring the emotion; I'm not one that loves stream of consciousness lyrics, but they're presented so well it's hard not to get swept up all the same. Often my issue is that the lyrics can come off as just not well thought out--there's no such issue here. You can hear how personal these thoughts are, and how they cause a struggle within Verner's emotions.

In the journey to this album, everything has been for its own benefit. But you can see the person Bon Iver has become every time he cuts an album, adding more character to each album as new experiences color his worldview. The man that told the world who he wanted to be is now hoping the world he hates will tell him who he is, and if he's up to the world's standard.

It's taken me the better part of a week to even figure out how to arrange my thoughts about this collection of songs. There's so much to talk about, and despite that, it's cohesive--a collage of junk forming Justin Verner's face. It's well paced, it isn't frontloaded, every song is effective, and it doesn't have an overlong track anywhere. I really cannot stress how much of an achievement this album is, on so many levels. It's growth in the best sense--the kind that hurts despite being such a breakthrough. It's intense catharsis.

9.8/10, Vinylworthy