For over 15 years, Justin Vernon's music has proven to be limitless. His 2007 debut as Bon Iver, For Emma, forever before, arrived as falsetto-filled folk wrapped in irresistible mythology—he recorded the album alone in the Wisconsin desert, broken and recovering from illness. But just as a generation of songwriters began to emulate his signature wooden sound, Vernon had moved on to the next thing, then the next: a post-rock side project. a Grammy-winning chamber pop record. then, in 2016, the experimental 22, One millionwhose crooning vocals, glitchy synths and spectral orchestrations redefined Bon Iver as a genre- or era-defining act. Until 2019, when the band was released i, iVernon was widely considered a generational genius, an artist, an innovator of the highest order. It seemed there was nothing he couldn't do.
After nearly two decades of reinvention and obscurity, Vernon now seems ready to go more direct. After initially rejecting the limelight, he has embraced his role as an advocate for social change, releasing singles with corresponding mission statements and promoting partnerships with gender equality and domestic violence prevention organizations during his live shows. recently, he performed in support of Kamala Harris and Tim Walz at a rally in Wisconsin. His collaborations have also become less obvious and more straightforward. Instead of freestyling with Chief Keef and Assassin on the sly tracks of Kanye West's albums, he duets pop standards with Taylor Swift and Zach Bryan. Each Bon Iver release marked a rip in time, opening a gateway to uncharted musical possibility. But up SABLE, His latest EP, Vernon abandons the transformative for the bare simple, showing how revelatory his songs remain even when stripped down to their elements.
SABLE, it is not a “return to form”, however, a term some critics have been keen to use. Less debt in For Emma and his next EP, Blood bankthe songs up SABLE, are more extensions of it i, i and his 2021 album Big Red Machine How long do you think it will last?with Vernon's rich-bellied baritone and sudden falsetto dominating over the guitar and gentle string arrangements. But while i, i rooted in musical collaboration and lyrical explorations of forgiveness and companionship, SABLE, finds a silent Vernon choosing between self-loathing and disappointment. On “THINGS BEHIND THINGS BEHIND THINGS,” he seeks relief from his brooding mind. “I'd like the feeling/I'd like the feeling/I'd like the feeling to go away,” he sings in descending order. The refrain that there are “things behind things” can be understood as either expansive or desperate: beauty behind pain, trust behind betrayal — or suffering behind pain, a circular torment without bottom. Vernon's writing has always thrived in these liminal spaces, where meaning can shift from listener to listener. And though the song never soars or dares to get weird—a hallmark of Bon Iver's best work—its repetition and stasis make sense. “I'm afraid to change,” Vernon admits, as a pedal steel sneaks behind his voice.
