A great number of words and phrases for describing Björk Gudmundsdóttir have quickly become trite. From those used to describe her physical appearance (“sprite,” “elf,” “asexual,” jabs at her egg-laying swan dress at the Oscars) to those used to describe her music (“eccentric,” “avant-garde,” “organic”), it often seems that all terms manage to be correct and wildly off the mark at the same time. Moreover, the same pattern applies to her music: Typical expressions like “experimental” tend to be lazy, ignoring the distinctiveness of each of her records. Even references to the woman herself as an “Icelandic Pop Queen” are only partly appropriate, since her music cannot always be categorized as “Pop”—and because she is a global figure, collaborating with artists all over the world while living and recording in London, New York, Venice and the Canary Islands. It seems the most appropriate way to characterize Björk is “beyond characterization”—which is a cliché as well, of course.
Travis Sullivan, a New York jazz musician and founder of the Björkestra (an 18-piece ensemble that plays big band covers of Björk's songs), thinks that it is this quality of stylistic ambiguity, the fact that “her music is forward thinking and doesn't fit in any particular genre,” that makes Björk's music so open to reinterpretation. And, according to Sullivan, jazz is a fitting vehicle for adaptation of the Icelander's work, which itself has been influenced by musical traditions from around the globe: “Jazz, after all, is a tradition, an aesthetic combining worlds of music; it arose as a combination of African rhythm and European principles of harmony and melody.
“Björk takes her own music and puts it in a different context herself,” continues Sullivan, making reference to Björk's use of a Gamelan percussion ensemble for her 1994 “MTV Unplugged” performance of her album Debut. “The music lends itself to improvisation. It has this modal, static harmony, and melodies with interesting rhythms that are syncopated, against the beat—like a horn player or a trumpeter.”
Sullivan was first inspired to adapt Gudmundsdóttir's songs while listening to “Hyperballad.” “I just wanted to see what happened when I adapted it for a larger ensemble,” says the pianist and alto sax player. For the songs that followed, Sullivan describes his creative process thus: “I have this idea. How can I use Björk's music to portray this idea?” He views himself as a composer first and an arranger second, and as such he uses Björk as a vehicle of expression.
“I ask myself: What do I hear when I listen to this?” he explains. “If I don't hear something I am interested in, I won't force it.” He transforms Björk's “All is Full of Love,” stripping it of vocals, electronics, and its obstinate backbeat, turning it into a sweet alto sax-driven nocturne. He assigns the vocal line to an instrument (or to his band's vocalist, Diana Kazakova) depending on what mood he wants to create. In the end, the protocol for adaptation pairs down to stripping the song into its two basic components: melody and harmony.
The Björkestra's repertory includes songs from all of Björk's solo albums, including pieces from her most recent efforts, Vespertine and Medúlla. Asked whether rearranging songs from the all-vocal Medúlla presented any special challenges, Sullivan responds that he took the same approach to it as all the other projects:In the end it was even easier to break it down into its melody and harmony components since the work itself is already tighly “orchestrated.”
The New York music scene is not completely unfamiliar with Sullivan's project. The ensemble debuted in 2004 at the Knitting Factory, and since then has played at Galapagos, Symphony Space, Makor and Joe's Pub. Now, they are returning January 20th to play at the Bowery Ballroom, a place which might at first seem to be an atypical venue for a jazz band.
