Drawing Restraint 9 OST

Anyone expecting something akin to a new Björk studio recording may not enjoy "Drawing Restraint 9," but taken at face value, the disc is a rewarding sidestep. [27 Aug 2005]

Björk’s biggest drawback, then, is that while “Holographic Entrypoint” is an enlightening rarity, most of Björk’s fans will find it boring. Very, very boring.

Unmistakably alluring. [2 Sep 2005, p.81]

What the crap is this? [#17, p.94]

Uneven but exceptionally inventive. [Sep 2005, p.92]

In this cultural moment where a soundtrack’s artistic credibility is measured by its ability to piggyback on the brilliance of James Mercer’s chord changes and/or Sam Beam’s whispery poeticism, Björk graciously peels back the firmament and reminds us that a good soundtrack bears the same responsibility as good cinema: to show us possibilities our dreaming minds couldn’t stitch together.

A couple of really cool parts, and the rest I don't feel so bad for forgetting.

The sad thing is, even at her most mainstream, Bjork's always been truly artful, but, in this case, she's merely painted a vulgar picture.

Children moan, accordions groan and Bjork's disembodied voice occasionally growls into earshot. [Sep 2005, p.114]

Haunting as the results may be, they are distinctly lacking in Bjork's own musical personality and her greatest asset: her inimitable voice. [8 Sep 2005, p.112]

It’s certainly another step forwards and upwards for one of our only real musically emotional geniuses.

This isn't always an easy record - it demands stillness and patience from the listener, but it is never less than fascinating and frequently breathtakingly beautiful.

An album that's inspiring in its ambition.

Bjork's vocals are a hypnotic midnight whisper, a continuation of Medulla's vocal layering techniques. [Sep 2005, p.117]