When Justin Vernon retreated to the confines of his father's wooded Wisconsin cabin during the winter of 2006/2007, something truly magical happened. Stricken with Mono and sinking in the tumultuous wake of a failed band and relationship, Vernon found inspiration in the surrounding ice and isolation. For Emma, Forever Ago, the 2007 album that resulted from his excursion, was deeply affecting. The circumstances and surroundings of its origins were captured and conveyed in haunting, hibernal hues. Somehow, in vexing his demons, Vernon managed to crystallize the essence of his emotion and implant it, perfectly intact, into each individual track. The process proved so therapeutic that he dubbed the project Bon Iver, an easier-to-pronounce simplification of Bon Hiver, French for "Good Winter."
The acclaim and accolades, all very much deserved, accelerated Vernon's ascent to notoriety and earned him all the typical marquees of indie stardom: sweeping tour schedules, collaborations with Kanye, and a track on the New Moon Motion Picture Soundtrack. As time passed, the whispers of doubt regarding Bon Iver's ability to follow-up with the same manner of success grew increasingly audible. This time there were expectations. Fans, budgets, and studios added variables to the simple equation of a vintage drop-tuned guitar in an inconsequential rural retreat. How would the man (now the band, for one thing) manage to rekindle that magic and avoid the common "sophomore slump" that befalls so many promising artists in similar situations?
Luckily for everyone, Vernon found the answer. To wind up at the same musical destination, he headed off in the totally opposite direction. Seven of the 10 track titles on Bon Iver's self-titled follow-up refer to cities, and an eighth, "Towers," was written about the high-rise, communal living dorms dotting the University of Wisconsin, Eau Claire campus. In terms of setting, Bon Iver couldn't have picked a more disparate motif.
Remarkably, though, the sound still exudes the vulnerability and genuineness so beautifully imbued in its predecessor. Listening to Emma, one envisions Vernon's face bathed in light next to a roaring fire, guitar in lap, as he reflects upon the flames reflected in his eyes. Troubling emotions slowly emerge as specters of himself, wailing in empathetic harmony as they are evoked and exorcised into the surrounding darkness. On Bon Iver, Vernon strolls down each city's dimly lit streets and serenades its sleeping citizens. Gradually, they awaken and accompany him through the boulevards with a rousing, ever-enhancing array of instrumentation that echoes for miles and miles. So much of the band's success is attributable to mastery of mood, and somehow, using entirely different methodologies, it's managed to replicate that feat.
Few albums are truly perfect, though, and this one is not without its flaw. For 9 songs, Bon Iver builds the type of tension and expectation typically released in some gloriously eargasmic final track. However, when the big moment arrives on closer "Beth/Rest," the result is probably not what you're hoping for or expecting. Instead of some breathtaking symphonic climax, Phil Collins busts out of the town hall with a fog-emitting keytar and marches through the city square as he overzealously plunks out a piano line dripping with his trademark synth effects. I applaud the willingness of Vernan to take a risk and go for the jugular, but this sound is too blunt an instrument for that.
Taken as a 9-track LP, Bon Iver embarks on a sustainable new direction for the band and is evidence of a successful transition from one-off wonder to durable outfit. Assuredly, when the third album drops, more people will be listening than ever before.
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