Say Yes! To Sufjan Stevens!
by Alison Wielgus
As with any complex artist, I’m often at a loss about how to describe Sufjan Stevens. A friend of mine describes him as a banjo-playing Christian folk lyricist greatly influenced by Steve Reich. The Village Voice of New York called him the musical version of Flannery O’Connor, and he’s even written a song entitled "A Good Man is Hard to Find" that addresses the O’Connor short story of the same name from a different perspective. What seems to be most important part of any description of him is that Stevens is an artist who simultaneously manages to be very literary and very musical, in the best sense of both possible words, writing densely orchestrated songs, sometimes with thirty-plus musicians, that deal with life, death, and everything in between.
By starting one of the most ambitious projects in musical history, Stevens has established himself as someone deserving to be a spokesman for new, interesting American music. His ambitious project is to record an album for every state in the union. Sufjan began the project, after two minor first albums, with Greetings From Michigan, The Great Lakes State. The album is a bittersweet collection of observations compiled during his time living there. He goes from the somber opening mourning the loss of a job ("Flint, For the Unemployed and Underpaid) to the observations of working class life ("The Upper Peninsula"), to a song meant to uplift a failing city ("Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head! (Rebuild! Restore! Reconsider!)"). Then came Seven Swans, a collection of sparser, banjo-led songs that deal with the faith of a creator. Finally, there was Come On! Feel the Illinoise!, which continued the Fifty States Project with another midwestern album, calling upon the stories of Abraham Lincoln, John Wayne Gacy Jr., mentions of towns like Decatur and Jacksonville, and personal stories.
All of this may sound either ludicrous and kitschy or wonderful and fascinating on paper, and fortunately, Stevens’ music manages to fall into the latter category. I became hooked on the power of Stevens’ song-writing the first time I heard the title song from his Illinoise album. The song opens with a Vince Guaralidi-esque piano rhythm in the irregular 5/4 time before a burst of woodwinds, drums, and a triangle come in, ending with an oboe riff before the lyrics begin. A song in two parts, the first part, "The World’s Columbian Exposition," discusses the pervasion of the industrial age as the World’s Fair of 1893 was held, and asks "O God of progress/Have you degraded or forgot us?," revealing the ambitions of Illinois’ attempt to move into modern times with the help of the World’s Fair, and already reflecting on its consequences further down the road. In the second part, "Carl Sandburg Visits Me in a Dream," the great Illinois poets asks Stevens "Are you writing from the heart?," and Stevens proceeds to attempt that difficult goal for the rest of the album. I
f "Come on! Feel the Illinoise" is as a gateway into Stevens’ song-writing, than the rest of "Illinoise" is a way to look at all his strengths as perfectly as they can be highlighted. The album addresses the history of the state but often in an elliptical way, using the history as a backdrop for his own emotions and stories. Perhaps the best illustration of this comes in the song "Casimir Pulaski Day," which is named after the holiday celebrating the Polish Revolutionary War hero general. The song describes the sickness and subsequent death of a friend on the holiday, and becomes a way for Stevens to ruminate on young love through lines like "In the living room when you kissed my neck/And I almost touched your blouse."
More importantly, it’s a way for Stevens to address faith, an issue that is always, at the very least, an undercurrent in his work. The narrator of the song says, "Tuesday night at the Bible study/We lift our hands and pray over your body/But nothing ever happens." Later, when his friend dies, the narrator says "Oh the glory when he [the Lord] took our place/But he took my shoulders and he shook my face/And he takes and he takes and he takes." The song ends with a young man questioning his faith or at least the actions of God, and I think that this is one of the reasons why Stevens appeals to both Christians and non-Christians alike. Stevens manages to be contemplative and interesting, not didactic or preachy, at a time when both liberals and conservatives alike have difficulty with the actual concept of truly debating ideas. He may write songs like "Abraham," which is about the biblical figure, but never falls into the realm of lecturing, instead depicting stories that can be taken as Gospel truth or examinations of human nature.
Stevens has taken advantage of and has been elevated by the musical culture in which he has risen to popularity. While intelligent and thought-provoking music is being made today, and while some of it is even selling well, a large chunk of what is popular is full of superficial lyrics and recycled music. Comparing Stevens to the newest crop of emo bands, with their whiny lyrics and repetitive three-chord riffs seems almost ridiculous. It’s unrealistic to expect Stevens’ songs to be played on the radio; with their complex structures and often with lengths over five minutes long, it takes some patience to embrace his music. But if the indie kids, the NPR-adults, and a lot of people in between can get behind Sufjan Stevens, then everyone should be able to at least look into the work of a startlingly original artist who has an abundance of ideas about the United States.
