Barnes & Noble
With her award-winning turn as the star of Dancer in the Dark, Björk has gotten a lot more attention for her acting (not to mention her fashion sense) than for her music, but this jarringly beautiful album should change that in short order. Always prone to flights of fancy, the Icelandic Renaissance woman takes off in some startling directions on Vespertine, most of them decidedly unburdened by the force of gravity. Ethereal to the nth degree, songs like "Pagan Poetry" (which is buoyed by the harp plucking of avant-garde veteran Zeena Parkins) and the shimmering "Sun in My Mouth" (which borrows from poet e.e. cummings) slip between the synapses like rivulets of mercury. Many of the tracks here exude the same sort of Zen ecstasy as the best ambient techno -- no surprise, given the presence of touches like the Oval sample at the core of the elegant "Unison." Likewise, the members of electronic experimenters Matmos -- known for sampling everything from a liposuction procedure to insects laying eggs -- bring an eerie (yet somehow quite comforting) tone to a passel of tracks. As ever, Björk herself contributes to the dislocation, via her marvelous vocal tics, from the ether-light murmurings of "Cocoon" to the inexorable yearning that burns through "Undo," as well as her thorny, impressionistic lyrics. Much like Kid A -- which could pass for a surlier sibling -- Vespertine will challenge your perceptions of rock music and make you wonder why it can't all be this compelling. David Sprague
All Music Guide
After cathartic statements like Homogenic, the role of Selma in Dancer in the Dark and the film’s somber companion piece Selmasongs, it’s not surprising that Bjork’s first album in four years is less emotionally wrenching. But Vespertine isn’t so much a departure from her previous work as a culmination of the musical distance she’s traveled: within songs like the subtly sensual "Hidden Place," and "Undo" are traces of Debut and Post’s gentle loveliness, as well as Homogenic and Selmasongs’ reflective, searching moments. Described by Bjork as "… about being on your own in your house with your laptop and whispering for a year and just writing a very peaceful song that tiptoes," Vespertine’s vocals seldom rise above a whisper, the rhythms mimic heartbeats and breathing and a pristine, music-box delicacy unites the album into a deceptively fragile, hypnotic whole. Even relatively immediate, accessible songs, such as "It’s Not Up to You," "Pagan Poetry" and "Unison" share a spacious serenity with the album’s quietest moments. Indeed, the most intimate songs are among the most varied, from the seductively alien "Cocoon" to the dark, obsessive "An Echo, A Stain" to the fairytale-like instrumental "Frosti." The beauty of Vespertine’s subtlety may be lost on Bjork fans demanding another leap like the one she made between Post and Homogenic, but like the rest of the album, its innovations are intimate and intricate. Collaborators like Matmos – who, along with their own A Chance to Cut is a Chance to Cure, now appear on two of 2001’s best works – contribute appropriately restrained beats crafted from shuffled cards, cracking ice and the snap-crackle-pop of Rice Krispies; harpist Zeena Parkins’ melodic and rhythmic playing adds to the post-modernly angelic air. An album singing the praises of peace and quiet, Vespertine isn’t merely lovely; it proves that in Bjork’s hands, intimacy can be just as compelling as louder emotions. Heather Phares
Entertainment Weekly
"B+"...Veering away from the strings-und-drang approach of 1997's Homogenic, she's made her quietest, most subdued record -- a collection of in-and-outta-love meditations set to airport-music keyboards, dragged-foot rhythms, and the occasional angelic choir and plucked harp. David Browne
Billboard
...intimate, often breathtakingly beautiful collection... Michael Paoletta