Having listened to the album about 20 times since buying it, I can’t say I’m blown away. I’m reading too many reviews in which the critics praise Bjork’s arrangements and technique at the expense of the songs, which are, with a few exceptions, non-descript and amelodic. It’s a trend I’ve lamented since “Vespertine,” the first time Ms. Gudmonsdottir’s songwriting and vocal affectations started to irritate the hell out of me.

In other words, folks, it’s the Radiohead Syndrome again. We admire the artists’ studio prowess, attack the Big Bad Industry for its conservatism, pour a glass of red wine, put on the album, and wonder whether the pain that gnaws away at our attention span is a result of boredom or that ham sandwich we ate for lunch. I mean, what the hell else are we supposed to make of “Where Is The Line” and “�oll Birtan”? We listen and think, “Why, how nice, how INNOVATIVE” and hit fast forward.

I certainly encourage Bjork to continue these hirstute experiments - with the caveat that she program some funk beats in b/w the Icelandic Vocal Choir, Robert Wyatt, et al. Arguably her most lasting work rests on that sequence of albums from “Debut” to “Homogenic”; on “Medulla” maybe “Triumph of the Heart” and “Oceania” and the lovely e.e. cummings-indebted “Sonnets” will join them.