Justin Vernon began his indie folk project Bon Iver in 2006, with the release of “For Emma, Forever Ago,” an album infamously created in solitude during a harsh Wisconsin winter.
Since it’s release, Vernon’s debut album has become a staple in indie folk, propelling him into the limelight.
Bon Iver’s latest work, “22, A Million” was released over the weekend to the anticipation of music enthusiasts globally. And to the surprise of many, this might just be the most experimental and outrageous album released all year.
“22, A Million” is a voluptuous cacophony of folk, gospel and electronic music, laced together by glitchy overdubs, dense ambiance and gasping, dissonant choirs that take listeners on a journey through a fragile perspective, one unlike anything the masses have heard before.
This is the hardest album I’ve listened to in a long while, but it might just be the most rewarding. Vernon has defined “folktronica,” and breathes life into the genre in an unparalleled manner. He exemplifies the dualities of both worlds in an effortless, cathartic display of musicianship.
Noises are stitched together, pianos and guitars glitch out haphazardly and Vernon’s vocals often explode into layers of sweet, powerful choruses. The listening experience is a whirlwind, so much so that it’s easy to disregard this album on the first runthrough.
In that sense, critics are likening the record to Radiohead’s “Kid A” — a blind, hasty jump into a style so unlike the artist’s previous work, it’s bound to divide the fanbase.
In my opinion, Vernon’s songwriting has never been more similar to “For Emma,” in that vocals are once again at the mercy of instrumentation. This leaves Vernon’s lyrical flow and rhythm erratic, unlike his sophomore album “Bon Iver, Bon Iver.”
The album’s art and track listing very accurately portray how chaotic the sound is. Songs are labeled with numbers, and named with keyboard characters that only sometimes spell out words.
In all senses of the word, this album is conceptual — a jagged non-linear account of something abstract that can’t be made whole, like two magnetic fields made forced to attach — be it folk and electronica, or perhaps something more figurative.
Every song explores a different part of Bon Iver’s esoteric universe. “33” is a luscious, metaphysical love anthem that stands out as one of the more promotable tracks.
“29” is a gorgeous and minimalistic ballad, noted by a howling refrain that still evokes emotion after a dozen listens.
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“8” deserves a mention too — a dreamy R&B piece that uses an army of voices paired with pulsing saxophones, it paints a picture I’ve never heard before.
If nothing else, fans of “For Emma” and “Bon Iver, Bon Iver” will at least be intrigued by the songs “666” and “715.” Though still quite different from his previous work, Vernon stays true to his melismatic songwriting style and keeps the spotlight focused on singing.
The track “715”, particularly, is an acapella throwback to his 2009 hit anthem “Woods.” It kind of feels like sensually enhanced slam poetry, just because of how stripped down it is.
I don’t think I’ve heard anything as cohesively disorganized as “22, A Million” before. As chaotic and unstable as it is, the album really just keeps getting better with every listen.
Individually, songs are sharp, moody, metaphysical and difficult to absorb. Collectively, however, this album feels way ahead of its time and has the potential to stay relevant for a good, long while.
Audrin Baghaie is a culture reporter and album reviewer for the Daily Lobo. He can be reached at culture@dailylobo.com or on Twitter @AudrinTheOdd.
