An Honest Dichotomy

“It might be over soon” a chipmunk voice squeaks to life on the eve of a Chicago Cubs World Series win. The timing of Bon Iver’s new album and its opening lines are hauntingly prophetic in this tumultuous year. As Chicago roars in raucous victory chants, the rest of America faces the most divisive political skirmish in modern history, and beyond that this year has been unkind to idols, legends of both music and cinema have fallen victim to tragedy. “It might be over soon,” echoes back in quivering sound waves, as a promise or a threat, a relief or an anxiety, as a blessing and a curse.

22, A Million is immediately peculiar in its construction and largely for unpredictable reasons. The album was billed as Bon Iver’s foray into the strange and avant-garde world of experimental electronic, this was to be his Age of Adz or even his Yeezus. The peculiar portion of this album stems from a seeming unwillingness to commit to this direction. The listener will often notice Justin Vernon waffle between diving headlong into the strangeness or creating another standard Bon Iver song, sometimes multiple times within a single track. Many have pointed to this noncommittal sound as a major failure of the album, when in fact it may be its most appealing feature, not because of its familiarity but instead for its honesty. The whole structure is reminiscent of a young child trying to change their personality for a different group of people: the surface is there but only in theory, cracks still show the true form of what lies beneath the mask. The serious flaws belying an unexpected honesty that one may have assumed absent from this album.

Carrying on that thematic conflict one realizes the album is inherently a dichotomy, a duel between transparency and concealment. Throughout the all too brief duration of this masterpiece listeners are treated to heartbreaking confessions wrapped up in robotic delivery and intentionally conflicted, aggressive production. This perceived split extends far beyond Justin Vernon it is an inherently human trait. The world is split over countless battles, all of which are clearly reflected on this album. Each abrasive “10 d E A T h b R E a s T” is matched with its own smooth “00000 Million”; every weak voice crackle from “29 #Strafford APTS” balances against the triumphant choral voices of ” 8 (circle)”. The world is not clean cut, humans are inconsistent and broken, and much like the album there is indescribable beauty in the inconsistencies and conflict. Without the broken distortion and abrasive nature of the production, the singing would become monotonous, dull and predictable. The album, like the world it inhabits is not a dream, nor is it completely nightmare, but is a melding of the two. The horror and beauty blend together in vivid colors, painting a far more vivid picture than either would be capable of on their own.

Regardless of imperfections, the album stands triumphantly as a beacon of light in these trying times. Much like the world it inhabits 22, A Million is cryptic, obtuse and a little bit ridiculous. Bon Iver has not created a painting like he has on previous masterpieces. Instead he has handed the world a mirror that shines back our beauty and our shame, casting light on miracles and transgressions alike. Engraved on the frame of the mirror is the phrase “It might be over soon” as a promise that all things must come to pass, these trying times and fragile victories too shall end, and like 22, A Million sooner than we may care to imagine.