In the wake of this moment comes two piano ballads, ‘U (Man Like)’ and ‘Naeem’. Each feature Justin delivering emotive language with high doses of melodrama; the first sneaks in cameos from Bruce Hornsby and Moses Sumney to join in addressing the state of poverty and homelessness in the US. Meanwhile the second is more developed structurally, breaking down with rolling drums and a soft crescendo after the second chorus, spelling one of the most dramatic pieces on i,i. Together they close the first act on the record with compositions that have the core nutritional values of a Bon Iver song in spite of the, at-times, cumbersome key-playing on ‘Man Like’.

While Bon Iver’s three albums as a band do include some of the most time-bending climaxes of the decade, they carry along transitionary tracks that can often feel undercooked and, sadly, i,i does not escape this. ‘Jelmore’ is its weakest contribution, mainly because of the almost broken electronics that simply doesn’t fit in a cohesive with the vocal lines. Having such a purposefully bandy element in the track is no oddity for the band - on 22, A Million, they tweaked and tuned the surrounding parts of ‘10 d E A T h b R E a s T ⚄ ⚄’ to successfully incorporate that swampy, overblown drum pattern. Here, however, it’s as if the synths and vocals are actively fighting against one another, with neither backing down. Beyond this, ‘Jelmore’ is a short idea that is not fleshed out enough to support itself, and this hurts the album in other areas too.

Tracks like ‘Holyfields’ present thoughtful sonic concepts such as its electronics and kick drums, which ripple wildly à la ‘Hinnom, TX’, but sometimes the band are expediting their gamut of ideas so quickly that they don’t have enough time to assemble themselves in the listener’s head. This lack of waxing and listener-friendly song structure results in Bon Iver’s biggest missed opportunity - ‘We’. Darkening the water after the crystalline opener, it’s a pensive cut that sees baritone guitars and menacing piano chords dwelling underneath part-production from hip-hop producer Wheezy, of all people. He also lends a hand on ‘iMi’, but his touch is more defined on this one, as his trap rhythms are translated into more man-made and wooden percussion. Moreover, the band’s adoption of hip-hop goes past grabbing one of its best producers, tossing in ad-libs and sound effects in places that a typical trap-rapper would also add vocal colour in. In the face of those brilliant subtle details, though, is the underlying feeling of disenchantment as the song shimmers out, from receiving something noticeably half-baked. The group are definitely striving to get to a high point, perhaps the midpoint where the horns and vocals clamber over each other, but that mountaintop is not reached for long before being killed off - more time should have been given to let us swim in this section a little more.

Fading into the twilight minutes of the record, the closing triplet of tracks are free of non-sequiturs, instead providing disarming nocturnes. Lullaby electronics rippling on the surface (‘Salem’) and burning sax solos (‘Sh’Diah’) sprinkle some aural treats in an illuminating send-off for one of Bon Iver’s stronger efforts. In one area, i,i is an exercise in sheer accretion, packing a flurry of instruments that melt into one another. Other places on the project begin and end quietly like a series of musical swells that escalate lusciously in the chewy centre. Many critics and fans explain their music as being “cinematic” or “epic”, an apt pair of descriptors for a mercurial journey of Spartan proportions, all shot in delectable film grain.