It’s true. My favorite song on Selmasongs, Björk’s newest album which serves as the soundtrack to Dancer in the Dark, is the only track on which Bjork does not sing. I love Björk, in a musical way. In general, I much prefer vocals to non-vocal/classical/instrum

ental music. However, the first piece opens the album slowly, with a low hum, building into a wondrous orchestral crescendo. Aptly enough, it is entitled "Overture" and begins a great, mechanical, industrialized album full of playful anguish.

"Cvalda" is the next song. Yeah. As you listen to the beginning of it you squint and frown. Then there is a whisper of a beat which takes the sound of a clang. More and more percussion until you’re cussin’. Björk begins scatting before erupting into melodious howls. Some of her words are in English and some in other languages but it’s difficult to understand her no matter what languages you speak. This album, however, is more intelligible than previous efforts. The way the horns build in this song resonates in the back of my neck, kickin’ it with the vertebrae.

As it is with soundtracks, especially with musicals (the genre to which one could ascribe this film), the songs are a bit disconnected because they are separated by much plot action. A good point to keep in mind if you’re in search of continuity (not that most albums are fluid).

I hear a train whistle. It’s the Metrolink! Or perhaps…oh yes it could be…there within the small structure of my stereo emerges the freight, carried along by the sounds of a train that’s got the beat, it’s got the beat. A man and woman sing of the dusky world in which the light has dimmed. Björk’s character is going blind and her suitor wants to help her. Selma will have none of it though and has had time to resign herself to sightless future. She’s seen it all. Two of the hippest voices of our time meet up and rhyme together in this track: Björk and Thom Yorke (of Radiohead). Where is the place you are most likely to receive a spork? Wendy’s? Dairy Queen? You tell me.

The next song is spooky. The sound is spooky, the refrain "You are gonna have to find out for yourself" = spooky, the texture of her voice is spooky as well. It begins like a lullaby, then progresses into fear. There is no nightlight, and all the shadows frame monsters on the wall. "Scatterheart" hears a mother speaking to her only child, warning him of the will of the world with her wail.

The fifth track, "In the Musicals," is very postmodern. The song’s self-reflexivity swims underwater. In the middle of an emotionally wrenching film, everyone begins singing and dancing. As Björk states, "No one minds it at all/ if I’m having a ball/ this is a musical!" The chorus builds, as a smile does when you find out someone you like likes you. The grin gets wider and wider. The percussion in this song is also astounding; the beats make a pitter patter, reminiscent of the rain dripping from the rainpipes of the current, pre-renovated Clark-I after the shower has ended and the sun glimmers off the cars in the parking lot. The best moment in this song is when we hear a ball slow its bounce and come to rest in the middle of the first verse–listen for that.

The sixth song is called "107 Steps." I listened more closely to it the other day. There are 140 steps. I’m not sure what goes on, but if you’ve seen the movie you know the number of steps doesn’t matter, what matters is what they represent. The descending violin at the end of this piece shortened my breath. The consistent counting in the background of this song was a piece of art unto itself. Don’t listen to this song with your eyes closed unless you’re beyond accustomed to violence in our society, aural as well as visual.

The last song on this short album melds the best slow parts of the record, the first track’s melody, intelligible lyrics, possibility within despair. "Oooohoooo, my sweet Clementine." Imagine your favorite food or texture. Now you’re swimming in it. Mine’s ice cream. I pass from Boysenberry into Chocolate with ease. Yes, everything good is capitalized. Again the brass kicks ass. The percussion’s rushin’. "I wonder what happens next…"

You go buy the album. Or you at least download all the songs from Napster if you can still do that at press time.

P.S. No good recommendation is great without listing a weakness. This album doesn’t stand well on its own. It may float, but the foundation is on the screen, in the mise en scene. Go see Dancer in the Dark and then the album will make you cry, for two reasons: (1) the movie is heart-wrenching and you’ll be reminded of the story when listening to the songs, but also (2) the best song from the film is one Björk sings a cappella at the end and it is not included in Selmasongs. Geez.