{"version":"1.0","type":"rich","provider_name":"Bj\u00f6rk.fr \u2013 Site francophone d\u00e9di\u00e9 \u00e0 Bj\u00f6rk : musique, clips et actualit\u00e9s","provider_url":"https:\/\/www.bjork.fr","title":"Stereogum","author_name":"benjicok","width":"480","height":"315","url":"https:\/\/www.bjork.fr\/Stereogum-utopia-review","html":"\u003Ch4 class='title'\u003E\u003Ca href='https:\/\/www.bjork.fr\/Stereogum-utopia-review'\u003EStereogum\u003C\/a\u003E\u003C\/h4\u003E\u003Cblockquote class='spip'\u003E\n\u003Cp\u003EBj\u00f6rk has already been to hell. Her 2015 album, Vulnicura, was a raw portrait of grief, written and recorded in the months after she and her longtime partner and collaborator Matthew Barney announced their separation. On Vulnicura, Bj\u00f6rk sang about that loss with the strength of a gale, her feelings so plainly exposed that listening to the album felt almost voyeuristic. But in pillaging the depths of human heartbreak, Bj\u00f6rk crafted her most immediately impactful and critically well-received (\u2026)\u003C\/p\u003E\n\u003C\/blockquote\u003E\n"}