Out of the Woods

Bon Iver finds his light.

- CRAIG JENKINS

JUSTIN VERNON WAS weeping inconsolably onstage, his signature falsetto warbling just out of control, when he realized it was time to rethink Bon Iver. The song he was performing that day in 2023 in Duluth, Minnesota, “715—CREEKS,” from 2016's 22, a Million, is an agonizing vocal-loop routine that demands a lot of the artist. "I have to go way outside my body in order to do the song justice," he said on Reddit in an "Ask Me Anything" session, "so sometimes that sort of experience can be very enjoyable and other times it can be somewhat painful!" The song is beloved enough by the fandom to have spawned a YouTube playlist populated exclusively with live renditions of it. The Duluth performance sticks out as a moment when attendees roared while the performer ached. But this is actually the heart of their relationship. One does not turn on Bon Iver to throw ass. To listen to Justin Vernon is to hurt and heal alongside him—an approach the artist has found taxing.

The storm of activity heralding the new Bon Iver full-length, Sable, Fable—including a gravlax pizza, a basketball tournament, and a light and chipper TV and podcast push—loudly suggests that Vernon is committed to having a better time now. He's worked on his anxiety, moved to California, and quit cigs and X. He’s here to uncouple the day job from memories of difficult experiences, to write from a place of peace rather than distress. The acoustic Sable