First, Bon Iver reframe the entirety of last year’s SABLE, EP by repurposing it as the prologue to their fifth studio album. Throughout it, Justin Vernon puts a lot of stock in that prefix: things are perpetually jumbled, but they can be remade, maybe even replaced. Each new path buzzes with possibilities, but fABLE does away with the fear and paranoia these can stir up, attaching itself, miraculously, to an abundance of joy. It’s clear-headed and radiant (if less sultry than certain headlines might have you thinking), drawing upon elements of soul and R&B that Vernon has harnessed before, but never with such refreshing immediacy and purpose. “Seek the light,” he urged all those years ago, and damn it if he won’t keep looking. He’s in such good company, after all, and it’s showing more than ever. 

1. THINGS BEHIND THINGS BEHIND THINGS

On SABLE,’s opening track, Justin Vernon is both apprehensive toward darkness and beginning to aspire against it. In the context of a three-song EP, the desperation of a line like “I can’t go through the motions, how’m I supposed to do this?” feels unshakable. With such a long road ahead, though, things start to look different. “I am afraid of changing/ And when it comes a time to check and rearrange shit,” he sings, before repeating the titular refrain. It’s still baffling, but there’s no if – the time is now.

2. S P E Y S I D E

As familiar as the downcast, stripped-back nature of ‘S P E Y S I D E’ seems, more than half a year after its release, the song’s directness is still astonishing. “Man, I’m so sorry/ I got the best of me/ I really damn been on such a violent spree,” he admits, looking back with a fistful of guilt that could hardly pertain to just the recent past or a single person. Yet as it all comes pouring out, the lack of specificity leaves space for hope. “Maybe you can still make a man from me.” Not of, but from – all the pieces are there. 

3. AWARDS SEASON

If ‘AWARDS SEASON’ was like the other songs on the album’s prologue, it might have ended around the three-minute mark, before Mike Lewis’ gorgeous saxophone gestures at the kind of reprieve that previously seemed impossible. When Vernon returns for another verse, he delivers a far more crushing acceptance of the dissolution, or redirection, of a relationship – “We were on our way/ To be best to face/ All that comes in gray” – while failing to grasp an explanation. Where does the aching go, then, if not back? Everything you’ve made will stay, but can be remade; maybe that’s your reward.

4. Short Story

“Oh, the vibrance!” What a dazzling way to herald the transition from SABLE, to fABLE trickling down through luminous piano and electronics while Jim-E Stack’s drums boom out the loneliness. Kacy Hill’s voice ushers in on the outro to sweetly affirm, “Time heals, and then it repeats,” which is complemented by Vernon’s more ambivalent “You will never be complete.” Which means you can keep growing. 

5. Everything Is Peaceful Love

Anchoring in an ‘80s beat that should drive away anyone with an aversion to what might be dubbed “adult contemporary,” the album’s lead single quickly proves it’s got as much soul as it does polish. While it calls back to 2011’s ‘Beth/Rest’, Vernon’s delightfully silly rhyming and totally giddy chorus make this a grower, especially with its placement in the tracklist. Of course he’s geared to glitch up the formula, but this is its purest, most immediate expression.

6. Walk Home

The album gets groovier and sultrier here: “Pull me close up to your face/ Honey, I just want the taste,” Vernon sings, his vocals crystal clear. There’s not much room for interpretation in his lyrics, which opens up the space for a new, gorgeous kind of intimacy in the Bon Iver canon.

7. Day One [feat. Dijon and Flock of Dimes]

Vernon’s voice is impassioned enough on its own on ‘Day One’, maybe the most it’s been up until this point, but being joined by Dijon and Jenn Wasner, aka Flock of Dimes, only enriches the tune. It’s a kaleidoscopic example of Bon Iver’s radiant gospel influence melding with their dizzying knack for pitch-shifting and arrangement, making the song sway like it’s born anew with each verse. There are lyrics here that could have been molded into the darkness of SABLE, (“So I’ve culled what I can’t tame” echoes “What can wax can wane”), but the light is flattering, and the group welcomes it. 

8. From

‘From’ presents itself as patient and easygoing, with Vernon willing to bend the rules and timing of the relationship, a sentiment bolstered by Mk.gee’s cozy, fluid guitar playing. Yet the singer is only as carefree as he is conflicted: “I’m beset with what we could become.” There’s a restlessness to the desire, tame it as he might. 

9. I’ll Be There

The interplay between the horns and bass is instantly gratifying, though this one lacks that bit of extra studio magic that takes the album’s best tracks to another level. In less than three minutes, it really hammers that point home, its titular promise scanning more like an exercise in self-encouragement. “Keep the sad shit off the phone/ And get your fine ass on the road!” Vernon sings, which is startlingly funny.

10. If Only I Could Wait [feat. Danielle Haim]

The subtle impatience of ‘From’ bubbles up to the surface on standout ‘If Only I Could Wait’, dramatizing the tension by bringing Danielle Haim on board. “Can I incur the weight/ Am I really this afraid now?” Vernon sings, each ensuing “ah” stabbing at the truth of the emotion before Haim’s counterpart voices her own trepidation. (“I ain’t up at your pace yet”). Yet their voices still fold into each other, signaling connection even if they can’t quite totally sync up. 

11. There’s a Rhythmn

Funnily enough, SABLE, and fABLE’s best songs (‘There’s a Rhythmn’ is also Vernon’s favorite) are exactly the same length: five minutes and sixteen seconds. Understated yet unconstrained, the penultimate song takes its time not to meander but rather deliberate. It hits close to home, more literally than any other song on the record, as Vernon contemplates leaving Wisconsin for Los Angeles. As the instrumentation pulls back, he recalls visiting someone in Spain: “That was a month ago and change/ And now I think you need some space/ I will pause and stand with spade.” (You’d never guess the rhyme that patches it up.) There are still things behind things behind things, but the arrangement here is comforting, as is the constant, curiously misspelled. 

12. Au Revoir

And then it goes, the rhythm, so Vernon and co. are forced, as he sings on ‘If Only I Could Wait’, to “learn replace.” Thankfully, they’re more than well-versed in this form, the lack of it – because try as you might to rehearse goodbyes, they’re always improvised on the spot. Their version flickers on for two full minutes, less the word itself than the smile you hang onto after turning the other way.