Bjork is one of those artists that I listen to in waves; there are times when I am very much not in the mood for her vocal stylings or song constructions (She’s definitely someone who doesn’t believe in the traditional verse-chorus-verse as tradition, if that makes sense, and I sense that she’s more of a fan of her vocal tics than most), but other times, very few things in the world sound as necessary or beautiful to me. “Bachelorette” is definitely one of my go-tos for when the latter takes me, filled with everything I find appealing about her music: Amazing arrangements (Those sweeping strings! Especially when they shift key towards the end of the song, at 4:27), a fearless vocal performance and lyrics that offer up phrases that stick in the brain and feel heavier and deeper than they were perhaps intended (“I’m a tree that grows hearts/One for each that you take” is a lovely couplet, in this one, as is the opening “I’m a fountain of blood/In the shape of a girl”). That the song fades, but Bjork’s vocal remains until the accordian brings her out, is just an added plus. This is a lovely, lovely song that makes me feel things I still don’t know what to call.