Hyperballad | Björk

This morning I woke up feeling a little off. Or feeling a little off about about myself. 

It was one of those mornings when I looked in the mirror and all I could see were the not-so-great parts of Sadia, inside and out. When every song that played seemed to just make it worse (Thanks Songza. Sunshine indie pop my ass). And that not-so-great-Sadia outlook continued on my drive to work…until Bjork came on.

If there is one artist that I could choose to represent everything that I love about music, everything music does for me, everything that music reveals for me, it would be Bjork. Her music has been the soundtrack to every importnat part of my life. She’s was there for me in high school, college, and grad school. In Chicago, L.A., SF and any random place I ended up. She was there for me on a train in Japan and in the metro in Paris. She can make the most distant places feel intimate, and the most common places feel undiscovered. She can make the need to dance…cry…or scream, feel like the most necessary and celebratory acts a person can do in this world.

For as weird, strange, disturbing, rattling, and alarming she can be, I also find her electrifying, beautiful, impassioned, daring, and gallant.  For every not-to-great part of Bjork, I see a pretty-fucking-awesome-part of Bjork counterpart.

And every time I hear her music it’s a subtle reminder that I have some pretty-fucking-awesome counterparts too…if I would just let myself see them when i looked in the mirror in the morning.