In the hushed aftermath of silence, Bon Iver returns – not with a roar, but with a reverent whisper that builds into something luminous. ‘SABLE, fABLE’ is not merely an album, but a reckoning told in two voices: One rooted in the soot and shadow of reflection, the other blooming with the fragile light of renewal. Across these songs, Justin Vernon traces the arc of transformation, from solitary ember to shared warmth, crafting a tapestry of loss, love, and the quiet miracle of starting again. It’s music that doesn’t demand to be heard – it invites you to lean in, to feel, to remember.
Stream: ‘SABLE, fABLE’ – Bon Iver
For an artist so often associated with isolation and inner reckoning, Bon Iver’s SABLE, fABLE feels like a hand extended.
This fifth full-length record – six years in the making – finds Justin Vernon returning to the emotional terrain that made For Emma, Forever Ago a classic, but armed now with something far more fragile and precious: Hope.
Released via Jagjaguwar, SABLE, fABLE is more than just an album – it’s a diptych, a reflection and a resolution. The first chapter, SABLE, released as an EP in late 2024, was a somber prelude, three songs of cavernous sadness and soul-searching. The second half, fABLE, completes the story with nine tracks that stretch upward, toward light, joy, and human connection. Together, they form a narrative arc unlike anything Bon Iver has done before: The controlled burn and the regrowth.
Let’s start at the beginning. SABLE is raw. It’s the cabin in the woods, it’s the flickering embers of regret and confusion. We arrive at “THINGS BEHIND THINGS BEHIND THINGS,” a whisper of a song that somehow says more in its restraint than most records do in an hour. It’s the sound of a man alone again, but no longer lonely.
I get caught looking in the mirror on the regular
And what I see there resembles some competitor
I see things behind things behind things
And there are rings within rings within rings
Then, in comes “S P E Y S I D E,” with its nostalgic guitar plucks and Vernon’s unmistakable falsetto, harkening all the way back to 2008. “I can’t rest on no dynasty,” he croons, painfully self-aware. It’s a haunting confession, the sound of a man confronting his myth.
In contrast, “AWARDS SEASON” is a rare moment of fire: Full of skittering horns and anxious energy, it acts as a climactic purge, a necessary flare-up before the record can truly settle into peace.
You had taken
All away my aching
Well, how could I ever thank you?
I’d been received
But I’m a sable
And, honey, us the fable
You said that you were unable
That it’s not reprieved
Oh, but maybe things can change
What can wax can wane
Things can get replayed
And if it’s all the same
Oh, just take my hand
And place it on your blame
And let it wash away
With you, I will remain
But don’t be fooled. That melancholy is merely the clearing of space. With fABLE, the flowers bloom.
The transition is marked by “Short Story,” a brief but pivotal bridge that connects the past to the present, the ache to the ecstasy. From there, SABLE, fABLE lifts off into kaleidoscopic emotional territory – gospel-infused, soul-leaning, rhythmically fresh. Vernon, alongside co-producer Jim-E Stack, blends Bon Iver’s folk DNA with new shapes and textures: Trip-hop breakbeats, spliced Wurlitzer chords, shimmering pedal steel, and saxophone bursts that don’t so much scream as exhale.
On “Walk Home,” vaporous guitars and analog tape warble support a lyric about shared desire that’s remarkably tender: “I wanna know where you wake up.”
One of the album’s most potent achievements is how it avoids the star-studded distractions of Vernon’s past collaborations. Gone are the days of Kanye and Swift. Instead, SABLE, fABLE welcomes subtle, textured contributions from kindred spirits – Dijon, Danielle Haim, Flock of Dimes, Jacob Collier, mk.gee, and Kacy Hill – each elevating the songs without ever overpowering Vernon’s vision. It’s not about scale; it’s about intimacy.
“Day One,” featuring Dijon and Flock of Dimes, is a highlight, a song that feels like a living organism. Keys dart in and out like beams of sunlight, while Vernon sings of identity and devotion: “I don’t know who I am without you.” It’s a devastatingly earnest admission, one that turns vulnerability into resolve.
Then there’s “From,” a soaring, pleading gospel ballad (and recent Atwood Editor’s Pick) that breaks your heart and rebuilds it in four minutes. “I can see where you’re coming from,” Vernon sings, his voice trembling with humility. The honesty here is piercing – these are not the musings of a lost man, but of one who’s found clarity in love, who knows now what he wants and how hard he’s willing to work for it.
“If Only I Could Wait,” a duet with Danielle Haim, may be the album’s emotional centerpiece (highlighted on Atwood Magazine). Written during a snowstorm lockdown at Vernon’s April Base studio, the song is delicate but commanding, a testament to patience and the exhaustion that can come from yearning for someone you’re still not sure you deserve. Rob Moose’s strings cradle the melody in gossamer layers, while Haim delivers a performance that’s at once weary and wise.
There’s a newfound warmth throughout fABLE – a tactile sense of closeness that glows in tracks like “Everything Is Peaceful Love” and “There’s a Rhythmn.” The latter in particular feels like a thesis statement: yes, pain lingers, but there’s another way. Growth isn’t linear, and Vernon knows that intimately now. Even at his most euphoric, he never forgets the shadows that trailed him here.
What’s perhaps most striking about SABLE, fABLE is how little Vernon seems to care about pushing boundaries just for the sake of it. The dense numerical titling and auto-tuned flourishes of 22, A Million are gone. So too is the ever-shifting sonic complexity of i,i. In their place is something more honest, more grounded: not regression, but refinement.
This is Bon Iver in widescreen. Not maximalist, not minimalist – just human. The glitchy experimentation isn’t gone entirely, but it’s repurposed, made to serve the story rather than distract from it.
That’s the magic of SABLE, fABLE: It reveals that Vernon never stopped writing ghost stories.
But now, instead of running from them, he walks alongside them. He has transformed darkness into design, and found a way to tell his truth without cloaking it in distortion or myth.
So what does this album leave us with? A lesson, fittingly. That we can return to our beginnings and emerge anew, that healing is circular. That fables aren’t fairy tales – they’re roadmaps, full of detours and hard-won clarity.
With SABLE, fABLE, Bon Iver doesn’t just reclaim his past—he redefines it. And in doing so, Justin Vernon has made the most emotionally generous and musically satisfying album of his career.
As Vernon sings on the final track, “There’s a rhythm to reclaim.” And reclaim it he does – delicately, brilliantly, completely.
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© Graham Tolbert
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