“Wet your beak in my stream”
I’ve seen Bjork twice in my life, both times at festivals.
In 1989, I saw her being a Sugarcube, playing at the Reading Festival in that first year after they stopped being rock, but before they started being all post-rock and dull.
In 2007, I saw her on The Other Stage at Glastonbury. I’d wanted to go see an up and coming Hot Chip on the John Peel stage, but my friends, rightly, reminded me how I would hate myself forever more if I didn’t watch Bjork, and thankfully I agreed and stayed to watch her.
There was only one song that I truly wanted to hear her do. This one:
She sang it. I was in raptures.
I know I say this a lot, but if you don’t know that song, you really should give it a listen. It’s as tender, dramatic, orchestral, stunning and beautiful as it’s possible to be.
In the process of writing this – checking the spelling and that the links work, blah blah blah – I’ve now played that song 12 times. And yet, I want to hear it again, it’s that good. You’ll see what I mean.
You. Yes, you. Your life will be better for having this record in it.