By Deb Adams
I could never figure out why, but I used to have an unnatural disdain for Bon Iver. For those who see the countless times I listen to Bon Iver albums on Spotify may find this unbelievable, but it’s the truth.
Perhaps my perceived disdain for Justin Vernon’s music was in fact a reaction to the situation surrounding my first exposure to his work. When he made his appearance in 2007 with the single Skinny Love from For Emma, Forever Ago I was working a dead-end job for a construction company that was always one complaint away from a sexual harassment lawsuit.
So when Skinny Love came on the radio that first time in the company pick-up truck I was driving, I got turned off to the “My my my” of the chorus and thought, “What is this? This is awful!” Immediately I’d change the station.
On top of that, the For Emma album cover depicted a winter scene, and here I was, sweating in the company truck with no air conditioning. For me, albums with seasonal qualities should only being played at a certain times of the year. (You could say I’m slightly obsessive compulsive in this area.)
As far as his 2009 EP Blood Bank, I completely ignored it. When I first heard Roslyn from the Twilight soundtrack, I wasn’t yet drinking the Bon Iver cool-aid. (Yes, I’m aware that I not only just admitted to seeing Twilight, but also to liking it so much that I would check out the soundtrack.) For some reason, I just wasn’t struck by his music, even after hearing his beautiful harmonies with St. Vincent.
But here is where I most misjudged Vernon: I judged his talent according to some insane measurement I had created in my head that had little to do with his musical abilities.
But this past Fall that all changed. I was in my dorm room one day listening to Bon Iver in its entirety, and it happened: I fell in love. At times, his deeply personal and somewhat nonsensical lyrics would fill the room as I was shutting my eyes to sleep; but most of the time, they carried me through my daily piles of homework.
Once I started listening, I couldn’t shut it off. The way I fell in love with this album was completely different from any other I’ve ever listened to: I felt like Bon Iver represented where I was currently in my life.
Although the meaning of his songs are at times lost to me in between lines of poetry, the lyrics seem to represent a sense of longing and loneliness. Underneath his falsetto, which I’ve learned to love, he sings sweet, sad lyrics about many things, mostly love.
Every song on Bon Iver is named after a particular place (some real and some made up, like “Michicant”) and is supposed to conjure up the feeling of being in one of those places. Although Calgary is the only one those places I’ve actually visited, I can still imagine what his experiences must have been like simply by letting his music take me there.
Eventually, I know I will no longer imagine the locations mentioned in the titles (such as my favorites, Holocene and Calgary), but will instead reflect on the places I happened to be during that passage of time in which his album kept me such faithful company.
So instead of disdain, I now feel regret for taking so long to actually give him a fair chance. Who knows if I would have taken to his early works given a different first context. But whatever the case, I know I will be giving him my full attention from now on.
