Björk

The last time I saw Bjork was at a festival, supported by Massive Attack. The gig was a joyful mishmash of uptempo beats and general impish lunacy. In the general scheme of things, I think that she has since then wilfully destroyed her commercial appeal, and stepped back into a haze of experimental noise-mongering, far deeper than Radiohead could ever envisage. She has enlisted the help of the most innovative and some of the most obscure sonic pioneers to nudge her career along paths that some argue only a mother could love...

Tonight, the support (presumably vetted by Bjork) is "smorjphase". The noise battery is completely unlistenable, and several false endings prove that the crowd is nonplussed, as a huge roar of approval at each longed-for "finish" is re-drowned in a sea of distortion and feedback.

Thankfully, when this unwanted intrusion is despatched with, Bjork is an even more welcome guest. Backed by the Icelandic String Octet of 'Homogenic' fame, Matmos of 'Vespertine' collaboration, and a multi-instrumentalist who plays harp/accordion/lyre/harpsichord and organ, she is on fire. Mostly dipping into a back catalogue that is raided for its obscurity more than its crowd pleasing elements, she jumps and creeps and screams and lulls through the most diverse and beautiful textures and moments that could be wished for.

There is no one around today who could be said to be so truly in touch with the spirit of musical abandon and artistic merit that Bjork displays in her decades-spanning stellar career.

And anyone that disagrees should state their case.