Bon Iver, "For Emma, Forever Ago" (4AD, 2008)

            

                   Contrary to popular belief, Bon Iver is not a name of an artist, nor a person, but a deviation of the French phrase Bon Hiver, or “have a good winter.” Appropriately named so, just looking at the snowy, frozen landscape on the cover is enough to chill the bone, complimented by hand written name and title. Brainchild of Bon Iver, Justin Vernon suffered a major nervous breakdown, lost his long-time girlfriend, his band DaYarmond Edison broke up, and began suffering with mononucleosis. After these conflicts, Vernon relocated from Raleigh, North Carolina, to a remote cabin in Eau Claire, Wisconsin during the month of December. Planning to hibernate and recoup from his disease, Vernon did not intend to record any music while in seclusion. It was when another band he was recording with, The Rosebuds at the time returned his equipment. Months later, an album emerged spilling his guts over the snow in which he was encased in.

                “For Emma, Forever Ago” is a testament to a soul in seclusion, very similar to that of “Pink Moon” by Nick Drake. It an album recorded almost entirely alone and solo. The rickety recording process sounds that of absolute professional done on a shoe-string. Bon Iver brings the listener into the cabin of which the album was recorded, around the time of the winter solstice. The mantra of the painfully cold Wisconsin season can be heard in the chilling echoes. The skeletal notes echo throughout the recording, resulting in the tangible feeling of utter seclusion.

                “Skinny Love,” the third track on “For Emma, Forever Ago” is an utterly stripped down solo performance from Justin Vernon. Recorded only with an unplugged hollow-body guitar, lack of insulation to disguise the echoing throughout the track, and Vernon’s desperate falsetto voice come as internal cry addressing the pains of heartache. His voice pierces through the quiet guitar track as innocent chords strummed suggest a docility, meanwhile, the high-pitched wails and cries reveal a beaten and tormented individual, “I told you to be patient, well I told you to be kind,” are sung as if in a losing plea in an argument with a loved one, conveyed perfectly in a brilliant vocal performance. The lyrics rely on the music as minimally is it is: Vernon is defeated, alone, and desperate, his magnum opus is vocalized torment.

                The track beforehand, “Lump Sum,” displays Bon Iver’s eclectic use of over-dubbing. Vernon lays over several vocal tracks giving the impression of distant echoes, mixing it with thumb-strumming. The gentle coup of the guitar is nurturing, the echoing almost distant, and make for comfort, even at ease in performance. This gives the feeling of sitting in the middle of the forest, being one with nature, while the still enveloping falsetto shriek the pains of internal conflict as the echoes both come and go. The guitar is crisp all the while cascading minimal synthesizers paint a picture reminiscent of northern lights in the distance. Powerful, as the feeling of sitting in front of Vernon, yet the theme of isolation is alluded to in distant noises, backed by riveting use of fading echoes and dubs that come in and out. Brilliant the use of effects are, recorded in mono it eludes the difficult description of open air, with a theme of content in resting through isolation.

                Not only does the human element become evident Vernon’s song writing, “For Emma, Forever Ago” captures all the feelings of escaping into a reclusion only to reflect on the prior elements. Bon Iver’s masterpiece concludes the unanswerable human conflicts into verbose, honest singing. Justin Vernon does not hold back his emotions, nor does he regurgitate them, planning them dolefully through lyrical temperament and musical compliments. Bon Iver delivers a vocal tribute to the human condition of suffering in this quaint, snowy, dark album.

Blog Critics Timeout

Daniel Dilling
9-24-11
Blog Critics Timeout

      The best point was said by Donna Seaman: “Yes. One must also have the urge to share one’s enthusiasms. To advocate. To be clear about what it is that matters in a work of art.” This came early into the dialogue, it was an answer asked by Kris Vile, which he advocated “Is passion more important than education?” Of course it is, though they are interweaving tools of the critic. Both passion and education come in different mediums. Passion allows the critic to have a honed perception of their field; that they research into their desired field, gaining background and insight of previous entries made by artists or performers. The point is re-asserted by Donna that “Ongoing self-education is essential.” This is derived by passion, that a good music critic will look back into the past, and research the past genres that evolved into a current trend. Critiquing the past genres combined with Ebert’s little black book: that the reader ‘should be informed’ but not lectured. Same rule applies to any other critic, be it theater, food, books, whatever the subject may be, is scrutinized by prior inspirations or fusions. Passion is the drive that motivates any expressive person to do anything, perform, review, or simply enjoy. Anne Holub said it best, that “You have to have a passion for it; otherwise, you’re simply not going to bother.” It would be a tough sale to ask a mechanic to paint a picture; even if money was involved it would lack inspiration, though there would be a sort of motivation.

              Another provoking question was asked by Kurt Vire: “Let’s talk about the difference between “amateurs” and ‘professionals.’ Don, for instance, reviews theater on his own blog. Anne doesn’t get paid for her work on Transmission. Should they be given less credence than critics who’ve been hired by some print publication?” Establishing an air between the amateur or the professional, Sam Jones’ answer “I think the difference is often just accidental.” A humble answer, for it is such a philosophical question, ‘Is a professional paid?’ seems to be the main dam separating the two. Difficult answer, any good writer simply remains dedicated, reviewed, and enjoyed. It has nothing to with having being extremely rich or having a high profile. In the case of Stephen King, he makes more than anybody working at Columbia by writing ‘Boo!’ on a cocktail napkin and signing it. The concern in the forum regarding professionalism speculates payment, but the consensus rejects that platform on the aforementioned reasons. Lastly, insight from Sam Jones: “The question is whether the market appreciates the editorial function enough to pay for it.” In a world where as Donna Seaman says “We want everything for free.” Like newspapers, ads are indeed dominating revenue for creative content and forums. To be paid would require a fellowship of readers, however, this again does not define any sort of difference between the professional or amateur still. Some write for the love of writing, payment not required and the question of writing quality is not in peril.