Björk

Whether you consider her a peddler of precious, pretentious twaddle or an endless font of pure, Icelandic genius, you have to give Björk credit for eschewing the safe option. No other platinum-selling diva has had the guts to forge such idiosyncratic paths as this charismatic singer has done over the past 11 years. Now on her sixth post-Sugarcubes studio album, Björk reminds us that the voice — hers, those of Robert Wyatt, Mike Patton, the London and Icelandic choirs and others — is infinitely malleable and fuckin’ weird, dude. Its arsenal of sounds is as rich as the most loaded software program. Medulla sounds both ancient and avant-garde, hauntingly beautiful and fascinatingly repulsive. Bolstered by pliable beatboxing from the Roots’ Rahzel plus subtle production tweaks and brilliant arrangements from Mark Bell, Valgeir Sigurdsson and Björk herself, this is her most compulsively listenable album — and her most challenging.