Why “The Kid” is an Instant Classic

One of my favorite musical moments of the year comes at the beginning of “To Feel Your Best,” the final track on Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith’s The Kid. After about 25 seconds of bubbling synths, lyricless vocals and cosmic swoops, there is suddenly the sound of horses galloping. It only lasts a few seconds, but it’s one of many little moments on this album that make me think it’s one of the most special accomplishments in years. It represents not only the merging of nature and electronics that is such a part of Smith’s music, but also the journey of life that The Kid describes as the clomp-clomp-clomp of the hooves signifies moving constantly forward.

That sound of the horses galloping says so much without needing any words, and it illustrates the imagination and attention to detail that makes The Kid such a vibrant album. It’s hard enough to tell a story with songs, but to do it almost entirely through sound like Smith does, and to have this much feeling and meaning in it is a monumental feat. It’s made even more incredible by how overambitious and trite its concept sounds on paper: “the story of a life.” I would forgive anyone for assuming it’s impossible to execute on a 51-minute album. But Smith pulls it off, and does it in a way that feels personal while also being completely universal.

What really resonates with me about this album is how its sound has this kid spirit in it — I kept thinking it sounded like what would happen if you let a really smart eight-year-old loose in the orchestra room and they started playing with all the instruments. It is hard to say that without it sounding derisive of Smith’s abilities, but it is meant as a high compliment: her music captures the inner child all of us have, and for an adult to be able to pull that out through her music while still making it sound beautiful and sophisticated is an intricate balancing act. It’s why I loved all of its whimsical instrumental asides, like the opening of “A Kid,” which gradually piles synth sounds on top of its playful beat.

I find that kid feeling especially powerful in 2017, where the political situation and the internet has turned every day into a deluge of bad news as we’re made all-too aware of every bad thing that is happening in the world at any given time. What I’ll remember a lot about this year is that feeling of wanting to disconnect from the constant news cycle, but also feeling like putting my head in the sand and embracing ignorance is even worse. The Kid really taps into a nostalgic feeling, a desire to see the world through unjaded eyes and appreciate life’s beauty, and does it in a way that is wholly original.

And far from preaching ignorance or naivety, The Kid celebrates the process of learning, questioning the world and seeking self-improvement. As its themes move past early childhood into young adulthood, its sound gains a more cerebral touch while also maintaining its playfulness. The most lyrically-driven of these songs, “In a World, but Not of the World,” describes a process I relate to heavily, of finding joy in questioning and proving myself wrong, especially after growing up with certain beliefs I was certain were true. Intellectualism has never sounded this joyous.

Now in my late 20s (which is insane to think about, but let’s move on), I’m still mired in this likely endless process of self-improvement, of trying to do a little better each day and hopefully at some point become decent at life. It’s very internal and solipsistic, and not the kind of thing that would seem to lend itself to music. “Who I Am & Why I Am Where I Am” is a song where barely anything “happens,” as its just some repeated synth noodling with bird sounds over it for five minutes, but it has that feeling of contemplation and pondering the self that describes a lot of how my 20s have been.

Songs like this are also crucial to the pacing of The Kid, which excels at all the minutiae I love to overanalyze in music. Smith shows a cinematic understanding of rising and falling action, separating some of the album’s more powerful moments with ambient exercises that strengthen their impact through context. In this way, The Kid mimics the ebbs and flows of life, which isn’t just a series of constant thrilling events. There are usually long stretches where not a lot is happening (but it’s still sort of interesting in its way), then something major happens, then not much happens again for awhile. In this case, “Who I Am & Why I Am Where I Am” sets up the final three songs, which form an awe-inspiring conclusion.

Which I guess brings me back to “To Feel Your Best” and those horses. After a lot of time spent thinking about the self, the end of The Kid is about making room for someone else, and “To Feel Your Best” is about losing them. What I really love about about this ending is that it is so much more powerful and moving because of everything that came before it. We know how life always ends, but this album creates a relatable journey through childhood that gives this song maximum impact. It’s also ambiguous in the best way: the idea that we start and end life alone after all that growing can be depressing, but I suspect it is meant more in a Zen-like spiritual sense — Smith sees a certain beauty in this universal beginning and end that almost all of us share.

I am honestly a little uncomfortable with how effusively I’m praising The Kid, but I really think this album is going to stick with me for a long time. There is even more I want to gush about: how it’s an actual album that is strengthened from playing it start to finish, how it challenges the listener with its sound and lets you draw your own conclusions, how Smith as an artist is learning and growing in parallel with her story. I imagine its avant-garde (maybe even New Age) style won’t appeal to everyone, but adventurous listeners owe it to themselves to go on this journey that Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith has created.

Björk Convincingly Imagines a Better World on “Utopia”

Björk making an album called Utopia almost feels redundant. Her soaring, one-of-a-kind voice, genre-hopping style, and fusion of technology, nature and humanity has always imbued her music with natural utopian qualities. I even wrote a goofy paper in college about the very subject five years ago. Her ninth album doubles down on those elements that have always been present in her music, which makes it’s her most Bjorky album yet. It’s a 72-minute bird-song-backed ode to love and beauty that tries to imagine a better world than the one we live in now (which is, admittedly, not an incredibly challenging task).

The concept of a utopia is inherently political — offering a vision of a perfect dream world is a way of pointing out what is wrong with the world we actually live in. With so much political discourse taking on an unmistakably whiny, angry, and outraged tone (which is understandable, but still exhausting), the concept of Utopia is a smart way to funnel political ideas through a message of optimism and hope, themes that naturally suit the majestic soundscapes that Björk is known for. The result is that Utopia makes some powerful points about the world we live in, but in a sneaky way. What’s missing from this utopia is just as telling as what is in it.

Most of those missing themes were on her previous album, Vulnicura, which was at times ugly, angry and difficult, as she outlined the end of a relationship in stark detail. The beginning of Utopia hits the restart button, with Björk finding love again and relating it to her deep connection to music. Opener “Arisen My Senses” describes the original awakening and making mixtapes, followed by “Blissing Me,” where she is one of “two music nerds obsessing” and “sending each other mp3s.” Some of this gets a bit gooey for my tastes, but it sets the tone for this album, which is mostly about Björk wishing the whole world felt like she did when she was falling in love.

The lyrics on Utopia end up settling in familiar territory for Björk, with a focus on loving and caring for each other along with the planet we live on. This isn’t revolutionary material by any means, but after Vulnicura, there is a comfort in having Björk back to being her usual self. And she is still capable of articulating these fairly simple themes in ways that other artists would never think of. “Body Memory” is a weird, 10-minute epic where she describes a return to her primal state. Backed by strings, a choir, heavier beats and some sort of animalistic growling noise, she vows to “refuse to accept what was meant to be” after the events of Vulnicura, making the choice of love over hate.

The other big prescription that shows up in Björk’s utopia is abolishing the patriarchy, which pops up in a few songs. On “Tabula Rasa,” she sings of “the fuck-ups of the fathers” and how “it is time for us women to rise up and not just take it lying down.” While she doesn’t go full SCUM Manifesto, her vision is clearly one that includes more femininity, especially in positions of power. “Saint” makes that case clearly by describing a matriarchal leader who cares for the sick and poor, providing an unspoken contrast with our real-world leaders while also comparing it to the healing power of music.

The sound of this album is really where the utopia concept comes to life. Björk succeeds in creating a musical paradise, with flutes, strings, choirs, birds, and her voice all combining to make a musical Candyland. Much like Vulnicura, this album isn’t really interested in traditional songs, but instead in creating a landscape to get lost in. The relative lack of hooks combined with the long run time can make Utopia feel a bit indulgent, and I think some big choruses could have made the world she created feel even more lush and beautiful. On the other hand, I feel like Björk has earned the right to indulge in her music, and I can put up with her noodling around when it sounds this lovely and complete.

It is tempting to think of this album as a pure fantasy of another world, but on the title track, Björk makes a point of singing that utopia “isn’t elsewhere. It’s here.” Her genuine belief that the world can reach her ideas on this album gives Utopia a feeling of optimism and hope that is refreshing in the current political climate. I would normally chuckle cynically at that sort of pie-in-the-sky thinking, but Björk is one of the only artists who can really pull it off in her music. After all, this is an artist who has made a career out of making the impossible a reality.