In the three years since her massively ambitious Biophilia app and educational experience, the Icelandic superstar Björk has suffered heartbreak. Her break-up with collaborator and partner Matthew Barney rocked her to her core, and so she's quite literally chronicled her entire journey in her ninth studio album.

Vulnicura is easily her most personal record to date, but it's not trite like Britney Jean or Shakira. This LP chronicles her relationship from the beginning of the break-up to present day. Björk presents it in linear fashion for the listener to follow, and doing so she lets us in to her world, into the chasm that has emerged in her heart. She speaks with such authenticity that it's truly overwhelming at times. Forget Jagged Little Pill. This is the break-up album, Björk style.

The album brings with it a return to Björk's more well-known sound. Gone are the graviton pulls and strikes of lightning that formed Biophilia and the Timbaland-infused beats of Volta. Returning are the sweeping orchestral moments and layered vocals of Post, Homogenic, and Vespertine. It's a return fans have waited years to hear, and the personal nature of the subject matter makes it even more powerful.

Opening the album is 'Stonemilker', a song Björk wrote nine months before her break-up. It's a sweeping orchestral piece that brings to the forefront her love for her husband. Her vulnerability issues forth over the 'Joga'-reminiscent sonic soundscape. "Show me emotional respect, I have emotional needs / I wish to synchronize our feelings," she sings. The beauty of this sets up the emotional unravel that begins to happen throughout the record.

On 'Lionsong' we begin to hear of the unraveling of her relationship. Björk ruminates "Maybe he will come out of this loving me, maybe he won't" at the top of track. Her she employs her signature ruptured melodic lines bringing in a sense of chaos that represents her crumbling relationship. The instrumentation shifts between sweeping strings, moments of nothing, and pounding Volta-esque beats.

Striking synth pulses ring out as 'History of Touches' begins, before the beats begin to distort and throw us into oblivion. "Every single touch we ever touch each other / Every single fuck we had together is in a wondrous time lapse," she proclaims as the tenseness of their relation is explored over a desolate expanse.

But it's 'Black Lake' that's the core of this record. The ten minute opus is the wrenching open of Björk's body and soul, an exploration of the deepest pit of despair, grief, and anger that she has ever suffered. It's Björk at her most raw and vulnerable, her most personal moment ever put into her work. Silent pauses punctuate the song allowing for moments of clarity and self-exploration. Then she picks up the pieces and moves forward, but time and time again comes upon forces that she has to conquer. She is broken, but it is her aggression that breaks through as massive beats begin rising and pounding through the speakers. "Family was always our sacred mutual mission which you abandoned."
'Family' is Björk's own version of a horror film. It is a sonically terrifying exploration into her bitter rage after Barney's departure from the relationship. She employs her signature Vespertine vocal layering here, each one slightly off creating an encapsulating echo of her screams as strings pluck in an ever faster tempo, her adrenaline-driven rage rising to the surface. Her anger stems from her family being ripped apart as she sings, "Where do I go to make an offering to mourn our miraculous triangle, father mother child?" The song then ends with an almost two minute orchestral outro that seems to suggest that she is rising out of the pain and is moving to a better place.

Fast forward to eleven months after their break-up. 'Notget' is the moment when she is still reflecting on the pain, but recognizes that in order for things to get better she must move forward. "If I regret us, I'm denying my soul to grow / Don't remove my pain, it is my chance to heal," she sings. Strings are intermixed with more electronic sounds here, the bridging of the gap. Out of all the songs, this is where Björk is the most powerful with her vocals.

'Atom Dance' is my personal favorite moment on the record. Clocking in at eight minutes it's another deeply introspective look into her life, but this time she is assisted by Antony Hegarty who lent his vocals to Volta's 'Dull Flame of Desire'. This is the dance track of the album in a very odd way. "When you feel the flow as primal love, enter the pain and dance with me," she tells the listener. Antony takes a backseat this time with backing vocals, but it creates this awkward yet intriguing moment. It's a two-step fit for the likes of Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter.

Björk had to undergo surgery in 2012 to remove nodes in her throat, and 'Mouth Mantra' seems to speak to that but could also be about the voice she lost while in the relationship. "I have followed a path that took sacrifices / Now I sacrifice this scar, can you cut it off?" she asks. Her voice wails in vocal acrobatics which is something we heard a lot of on Biophilia and it's a nice return. This track is the most electronic on the record with beats zigging and zagging.

The album then closes with 'Quicksand'. This song was actually written back in 2011 and precedes all the relationship drama. It speaks about her mother who suffered a heart attack. However, the song perfectly sums up the emotion of the album. Zephyrs of sound compliment the grandiose strings that all but wash out Björk's voice. Her world has been shaken to it's core, but she's learning how to heal.
It's sort of fitting that Björk's deepest exploration of her life was leaked two months ahead of schedule because the leak is its own version of invasion. Her most personal body of work was ripped from her and exposed to the public. But it's here now, and we are able to experience the sounds of one of the greatest musical geniuses of our time.