Wire 1998 By David Bauder "Bravo Profile Hits the Essence of Icelandic Singer Bjork" NEW YORK (AP) -- Bravo wasn't looking for a cheap excuse to film a travelogue when it filled its profile of the singer Bjork with breathtaking pictures of the primordial Icelandic terrain. Understanding Bjork's native Iceland is an important prerequisite for understanding her. When she returned home at the beginning of last year, Bjork went for a nighttime walk where ice was thawing in the lava fields. The crackle of the ice and the Northern Lights above her filled her senses and inspired the striking sounds on her "Homogenic" album, an intriguing combination of strings and electronic beats. Iceland's terrain is otherworldly and Bjork's music, fittingly enough, often sounds like it comes from an undiscovered planet. The Big Band-inspired "It's Oh So Quiet" is an apt example. Bjork's voice swoops from childlike whispers to full-fledged shrieks and brilliantly captures the emotions of falling in and out, and in and out of love again. The cable network Bravo, in a profile that premieres Sunday, April 26 at 8 p.m. EDT, followed the enigmatic artist from her debut as an 11-year- old singer of Icelandic folk songs to her days in the punk band Sugarcubes to her life in London and, finally, back home. The 32-year-old musician is such a prized export that the documentary even seeks out the former president of Iceland to talk about her. "You cannot say that Bjork is common," said Vigdis Finnbogodottir, president from 1980 to 1996. "This personality is absolutely unique. The warmth, the major attitude toward life, mixed with the heart of a child. She has an Icelandic way." The former president may not want to know where Bjork was the night before she curled up on a chair in a Manhattan office to talk about the profile. She was fighting the effects of many hours spent drinking with friends and singing along loudly to whatever came on the jukebox. "Other people have asked me to do this in the past, but I've never felt comfortable with it," Bjork said. "Here, I really liked the people. I trusted them not to paint some glossy picture of me, to be truthful. There was a certain understanding of what I do, and I think that came across pretty well." Documentary makers sought to celebrate her work at what was essentially the lowest point in her life. She struggled with her role as a public figure when an obsessed American fan committed suicide after sending a letter bomb to Bjork's home in London. The bomb was intercepted. Bjork also attacked a television camera crew in Bangkok when they took pictures of her in an airport with her son. Video of a crazed Icelandic woman coming after someone with fists flying is never particularly good for the image. She hit an emotional bottom. "I've got a feeling that I won't go down there again," Bjork said. She never questioned being a musician, but wondered if it was best to pursue it as a hermit or to get out there and live life. "It was a question of, 'Wait a minute -- am I spending the right amount of time on the right things here?'" she said. "It does make you wonder when, because of the job that you do, that there is a chance that your only child can be killed. Is this a pro-life statement?" Anyone who knows her music can figure how this internal struggle played out. Before performing at the Tibetan Freedom Concert in New York last year, Bjork studied some books on Buddhism. Much of what she read felt right, but she sensed that the goal of many followers was to become so enlightened that they lived outside of their emotions and the normal ups and downs of life. And that rang false to her. Bravo's cameras catch her struggling to create her music during the recording of "Homogenic" at a home in the south of Spain. It's a stark, eerie sound, and often quite beautiful. Her voice carries emotions to the surface in a way that would probably frighten most people if they caught themselves doing it; that, probably, is the secret to her success. Certainly, the gleeful growls on her "Big Time Sensuality" reveal someone who lives the theme. She's no actress. Her mission is "to try to write music that's never been written before." "I will do whatever it takes," she said. "I've got a deadline and I can feel the clock ticking. I've probably got 50 years left. So it's, 'How can I make the most use of me for this?'" As a child, Bjork was fascinated with scientists, inventors and astronauts -- people like Albert Einstein who go to unexplored territories both physical and intellectual. She knows a little bit about how they feel; she describes writing a song as walking blindfolded. When it's right, she feels a peculiar mixture of ecstasy and fear. "I like explorers and experimenting -- and my music is very much like that," she said. "I experiment with 20 crap songs and one that is good, instead of doing 21 show tunes. I'm aware of that sacrifice. I'm aware that it's going to create a lot of embarrassment. But that's the only way you're going to progress."