Johannes Björk

𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝘽𝙟ö𝙧𝙠’𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙗𝙪𝙢 𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙧𝙤-𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧 — 𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨, 𝙥𝙤𝙥 𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧𝙨 — 𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙭𝙞𝙣𝙜.

Originally released in a micro-edition of only twelve copies for an exhibition in Stockholm, this expanded LP version adds two new compositions and re-records two earlier ones, revealing the full breadth of Björk’s sound world. The Gothenburg-based musician and literary critic treats lo-fi production as part of his sonic fabric, creating music that is neither polished nor incidental but suspended somewhere between.

Joined by Swedish writers such as Siri Ahmed Backström, Johan Jönson, and Johanna Sköldbäck Martell, Björk’s compositions unfold like quiet collaborations between text and tone. Drones pulse softly beneath fragments of voice; melodies flicker and fade like light through half-drawn curtains. The album’s atmosphere recalls the introspective haze of the early Gothenburg scene, yet it feels more intimate—an inward conversation between melancholy and illumination.

In these pieces, harmony and dissonance trade places; field recordings blur into whispers of song; and the listener is left inside a fragile balance between clarity and decay. It’s a record that finds beauty in incompleteness—a kind of soft, luminous tragedy.