bjork – Plain Or Pan

Human Behaviour by Bjork is, perhaps unbelievably, now 31 years old. A massive, booming and echoing timpali rhythm attached to a dry-as-a-bone rattlesnake shake percussion, it sounds like an amalgamation of smoky Parissienne jazz club and total jungle funk, topped off with a lyric inspired by watching a David Attenborough documentary and delivered as only Bjork can. Stop and listen and contemplate it for a moment. It’s a bit of a forgotten classic, I’d say.

Bjork – Human Behaviour

Originally written while Bjork was still in the Sugarcubes, it was wisely held back until the singer inevitably broke free. Quite what Sugarcubes, with shouty Einar and his expressive yet rudimentary trumpet might have done to it is anyone’s guess, but by the time Bjork had a solo record ready for release, Human Behaviour had been lined up as the lead single with which to promote it.

Her voice, always the key magical ingredient in Sugarcubes is perhaps even more out there on here. She whispers some of the verses, her Icelandic voice edged in Londonisms, then rasps and glides her way into those signature high registers, free-flowing and joyous and unlike anyone else on the planet. There are plenty of unique female vocalists scattererd across the genres, but I bet most of them wish they had the tone and timbre of prime time Bjork. There are little sections in Human Behaviour where her voice causes my skin to goosebump in exhilaration. Adele ain’t never done that for me, no siree.

Does Human Behaviour pre-date trip hop and all of that genre’s signifiers? It certainly rides the zeitgeist of 1993’s underground to overground sub-culture, but whereas those contemporaries chose to blunt things up and slow things down, Human Behaviour is forever propulsive and travelling, a head-nodding linear groove with music for the feet and lyrics for the head. Much of the track is built around a few looped seconds of an obscure 1970s jazz sample – of course – twisted and tweaked and dubbed and dropped into position by go-to producer Nellee Hooper.

Ray Brown Orchestra – Go Down Dying

I’d wager that few people if any were familiar with the Ray Brown Orchestra‘s Go Down Dying, but it popped up, recommended to me on a shuffling Sp***fy playlist recently and, appearing out of context, it blindsided me. The intro, filmic and groovy, with the suggestion of danger between the notes; where did I know it from? Bjork’s Human Behaviour, that’s where. A quick internet check confirmed it, but by then, Go Down Dying was taking on an unexpected life all of its own. Its fantastic shuffling groove, part Reni, part Roy Budd really carries it. The brass floods into it like a slow-spreading, discordant brassy rash, all honeyed hue and rasping anxiety. There’s even a riff-copying electric guitar that stings its way offa the grooves with all roads leading to Portishead. By the time the flutes have fluttered their way to the outro, Dead Man Dying sounds nothing like Human Behaviour at all, save for that keen-eared loop of Nellee Hooper’s within the first few seconds. Clever folk, those in-demand producers, and for good reason.

Underworld, another of those zeitgeist surfing acts took Bjork’s original and lengthened it to an impressive and essential 12+ minutes.

Bjork – Human Behaviour (Underworld mix)

The polyrhythms that kick start it, all falling over themselves processed beats and steady tambourine jangle give way to the exact sort of rhythm track that helped make Dubnobasswithmyheadman one of the best – the best? – albums of the decade. It’s relentless and percussive and simple enough to allow for Bjork’s extraordinary voice to soar above it. Bereft of the Ray Brown sample, the lyrics become easier to hear.

If you ever get close to a human

and human behaviour

be ready to get confused

There’s definitely definitely definitely no logic

to human behaviour

yet it’s so irresistible

They’re terribly moody…then all of a sudden turn happy

But to get involved in the exchange of human emotions

Is ever so satisfying

And still the beat goes on. Electronic whirrs. Random sampled, walkie-talkied voices fading in and out. The beats start becoming emphasised every few bars. Cymbals splash. Bleeps, bloops, synthy filters weave in and out. The rolling and tumbling electrobeats of Mmm Skyscraper I Love You revisited. And Bjork returns. And still the beat goes on.

Back in 1993, it was de rigeur that acts spread a variety of remixes across the single releases. What a scoop to get this one!

“Huv ye goat that record by thone wee Chinese lassie Byoing, the ‘shh-shh’ song?”

Any guesses?

Music retail could prove to be a real winner some days. The customer was looking for Bjork‘s ‘It’s Oh So Quiet‘, but you knew that already.

Since the last time I looked, Bjork has released about a gazillion albums. Some as apps. Some as super-limited thingies. And some as good old-fashioned, fully-fledged proper physical releases. She’s just rush-released her latest, Vulnicura, after, quelle surprise, it found itself all over the internet ahead of its release date. Something really should be done about that, but stone me if I know the answer.

I kinda lost my way with Bjork a wee bit round about her Vespertine LP in 2001 (gulp!) By then I was immersed in the world of portable digital media (a mini disc player – still brilliant, if y’ask me) and with the immediacy of it all, I suppose my attention span started to wander. No longer could I focus on subtleties and slow-burning things of beauty – I wanted melody and instant catchiness and I wanted it NOW! This is a common theme for the digital generation. Don’t like the song? Skip it. Don’t even download it. Don’t own it. Ever. Can’t play that tricky riff on Sweet Home Alabama? Pop over to ultimateguitar.com or YouTube, where someone better than you will show you how it’s done. Having trouble getting past those pesky guards in the latest Sonic the Hedgehog platform pleaser (they still have Sonic the Hedgehog, aye?) A quick Google will sort you out with a ‘cheat’. That’s why the current vogue for vinyl is pleasing – it might help slow things down a bit. Let folk take time to appreciate what they have, not what they’ve not.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh aye. Bjork. I loved The Sugarcubes. Saw them live a couple of times early on and bought all the records. Life’s Too Good is still an insanely brilliant listen, one that has easily stood the test of time. The Sugarcubes were bonkers, but in a good way. Formed out of an Icelandic arts collective, they were a kinda prog version of punk, too far away from the epicentre of pop culture to be totally influenced by fads or fashions. The band could’ve been any mid-late 80s band. Plenty of chiming guitars, polyrhythmic drums and tasteful keyboards. But there, any similarities ended. On vocals there was Bjork, a one-off singer whose vocals surfed the stratosphere somewhere between Kate Bush and Liz Fraser. On alternative vocals, when he wasn’t blasting his trumpet in any key but the right one, was Einar, a shouty, scary, skinhead of a man.

One time after a Barrowlands show we were all at Level 8, Strathclyde Uni’s indie disco. In walked most of The Sugarcubes. No Bjork though. Fuelled on cheap drink and the daft idea that the band had time for their fans, I went up to Einar and offered him my hand. “Great show!” I said. I meant it too. Einar stared me down for a good, ooh, 15 to 20 awkward seconds, my hand still out to greet him but unshaken. Looking me straight in the eye he sung to me. “We will! We will! ROCK YOU!” Eyes ablaze, he spun round and onto the dancefloor where he pogoed to Rise by PIL before disappearing out a side door, never to be seen again. I remained shaken. And stirred.

That debut album is full of weird ‘n wonky prog/punk. Anytime I found myself with a bass guitar in my hand (not very often, if truth be told), Blue Eyed Pop was my riff of choice. I love the way Bjork soars over the top of the melody towards the end – “Something wonderful’s about to happen,” she sings. Magic.

Sugarcubes – Blue Eyed Pop

Better still was Coldsweat, the band’s second single. ‘Hot! Meat! Metallic! Blood!’ goes Einar. What he meant was anyone’s guess, but enough folk bought it to take it to Number 1 on the indie chart, if such a thing is a barometer of hip opinion.

Bizarrely, the band stuck a twangin’ countryfied version of Coldsweat as the last track on their patchy second LP, Here Today, Tomorrow Next Week! More Rawhide than skewed alt/pop, make of it what you will.

Sugarcubes – Hot Meat

My favourite Bjork solo track? That’s easy. All Is Full Of Love. Slow, sweeping and graceful, as cool as the land from where it was conceived. The track itself suffered from a multitude of twitchy, glitchy, contemporaneous remixes, but the straight-forward album version is the way to go.