Björk doesn’t sing, she emotes. The turbulence of a lifetime fits inside her every vowel, the particular way she rolls her Rs releasing that emotionalism and allowing it to sink inside you. In turn, Björk’s sorrows become our own, and Vulnicura is like an unrelenting onslaught of sobs made digestible by Arca’s inimitable production flourishes. We can contextualize this record and pick out every allusion to Matthew Barney, to family wreckage and despair, but in the end, Vulnicura is a straight-up soul-crushing achievement because it’s an experiment in empathy. It makes you feel things — big, initially unfamiliar, things. –Gabriela

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