Music Review: On Bon Iver's 'SABLE, fABLE,' love inspires a chilly, robotic R&B patchwork

Audio By Carbonatix

On Bon Iver's “SABLE, fABLE,” Justin Vernon sings about his fear of change. And then he strives to embrace it.

The album is the first in six years from Vernon’s project, an epilogue to the reluctant pop star’s three-song EP “SABLE,” released last fall. Those minimalist, dark tunes open the album, with Vernon lamenting impermanence while also seeking something new.

On the “fABLE” songs that follow, he finds what he’s looking for: love. The album traces the arc of a courtship as Vernon plugs a hole in his heart.

“I don’t know who I am without you,” goes a lyric on “Day One,” the album’s most impassioned vocal performance thanks to contributions from Wye Oak's Jenn Wasner and alt-R&B musician Dijon. Much of the music is less convincing, alas, and fails to convey the heat of the moment.

Bon Iver’s sonics have toggled between his early, recorded-in-a-cabin ballads and the dense layers of more recent releases. Vernon and rising talent Jim-E Stack co-produced the new music, and while much of it comes from Vernon’s woodsy Wisconsin studio, it’s the opposite of organic.

Multi-instrumentalist Greg Leisz contributes lovely pedal steel, and an occasional saxophone peaks through, but the primary instrument seems to be a computer. Synthesizers serve up digital dissonance, samples are part of a robotic patchwork, and vocals often sound chilly and disembodied.

The album’s techno-folk sound evolves as Vernon sings about growth, and his gauzy romanticism settles on an R&B aura built around his formidable falsetto. At times it seems he’s about to launch into “Betcha By Golly, Wow,” or some other ’70s soul hit. Nothing here is that catchy, but his rising vocal line does distinguish the lead single “Everything Is Peaceful Love,” and he borrows a Jackson 5 title on the soulful “I’ll Be There.”

Long keen to collaborate, Vernon duets with Danielle Haim of the band HAIM on “If Only I Could Wait,” a persuasive lament about the ebb of love that served as the album’s genesis. Less successful is “Walk Home,” an ode to lust undercut by mystifyingly altered, decidedly unromantic kazoo-like singing.

A fetching retro dance groove makes “From” appealing, and a shimmering keyboard provides a big hook on the final song, “There’s A Rhythmn.” The spelling, like the album, falls shy of Bon Iver’s best efforts.