“I say ‘cunt’ in a lot of different ways on this album,” muses Jenny Hval. She does. In the mouth of the Norwegian polymath, words are not so much spoken as they are tasted, chewed over, explored with the tongue for soft and brittle consonants. And when she spits out the word ‘bake’ on the spoken word opening to Apocalypse, girl, 2015’s most playfully avant-garde album, it’s perfectly clear that this is the more obscene word.

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