A friend of mine recently asked me if I thought Justin Vernon was talented or simply creative. This struck me as an interesting and stupid question. Aren’t they synonymous? In lieu of comparing Webster’s definition (you all have iPhones, look it up yourself), I’ll say, after some reflection, I don’t think they are quite the same.
Either under his moniker Bon Iver (French for “good winter”) or with a number of different side projects, Justin Vernon has been a name in indie-alternative music since 2007. Among his best forays is his Volcano Choir collaboration with the WI based post-rock group “Collections of Colonies of Bees.” Their album Unmap was well received in 2009, and it was only a year after this success that the group began writing for the recent August release of Repave.
Though Vernon discourages the comparison, Repave is just another Bon Iver album. Of course, saying that it’s just another Bon Iver album is like saying that it’s just another Alex Glover SPOT song. It’s just another wildly original and captivating work of genius. Far from criticizing, I note the similarity between Repave and Bon Iver only to emphasize the indelible, pervasive vocals. Vernon’s soaring falsetto and chanting refrains stand out, no matter the venue. Not only does it sound the same, but, like Vernon’s last Bon Iver album, Repave is lyrically inscrutable. Even if you manage to make out a line here and there you will likely be perplexed with what you find. Consider the end of the song “Keel”, where Vernon moans out the lines, “Not before, I was in front, of the pekid fountain, The whole time.” Pekid isn’t even a word. At one point in “Comrade” he squeal-yells the words “Terra forming.” No, you’re not missing something; the words just don’t make any sense.
In a generous mood, Keats might say that Vernon has latched on to some serious negative capability. That is, he is effectively communicating without necessarily making himself understood. Vernon’s writing –like Eliot’s Four Quartets and beat era poetry—pillages words for their aesthetic leverage while caring little for any sort of categorical communication. It is hard to quantify this achievement. It’s not that his songs are about nothing. They are simply about things that usually go unsaid either because we don’t know how to say them or nobody is listening. You can point to them and say, yes, exactly, this guy gets it. You can sing along with him. But beyond that your explanations are bound to go awry.
While the vocal delivery and mystical “songwriting” is similar to Bon Iver, Repave does fall short of delivering the breadth of experience found in Vernon’s other work. This is an abstract criticism for an abstract work, but let me try to explain. Part of what makes Bon Iver’s first album so great is that each track sets itself apart from the others. The pieces of “For Emma, Forever Ago” are self-contained as individual expressions webbed loosely together in notions of isolation, dejection, and longing. They are thematically related but stand on their own as subtle modulations of tone and delivery. Bon Iver’s second album maintains this variety but imbues everything with a full-bodied, anthem-rock atmosphere. As a whole, the album is more confident and assertive. Volcano Choir’s Repave goes one step too far in this direction. The album throbs irrepressibly onwards without providing necessary space for reflection or development. Instead of delving a range of emotions and responses, Repave presents a limited, authoritative tone. It is too sure of itself, and, as a result, it is monotonous.
In answer to my friend’s question, I would say that Justin Vernon is creative. I’m not at a loss to explain how he made this album. In other words, his talent as a musician or songwriter doesn’t blow me away. I know he used computers, digital effects, lots of angst, and a hefty dose of spontaneously overflowing powerful emotions. He is one of many artists that could do this. But what sets him apart is not what his work means, but how it means. Not how does he make the work, but how does he make it work. That’s the headscratcher.