We all like to believe that we can listen to an artist’s music on its own merits, without knowing the back story. But the truth is that context is everything in trying to make sense of an artist’s work, and while we may well spend plenty of time listening to music without knowing the story ‘behind it’, with records we love and cherish, the story of how that music came to be and what’s it’s about are a huge part of our connection with the music itself.
Likewise, finding out that an artist is a dick or holds repulsive views can have a huge impact on our listening habits – see Morrissey, or indeed even the recent Roisin Murphy palaver. I’ve barely listened to her album and I’m a big fan, I just needed a break after a bit of a bad taste in the mouth.
And so it is with the Sufjan story. What an interesting place he inhabits in the pop firmament. Adored by Pitchfork and the entire indie universe, but he seems to have fans from well outside that world – he’s one of those rare artists where he seems to have broken into the public consciousness. And that’s fascinating, when you consider his output. He made his name in the early 00s as a kind of old-timey Americana folk troubadour, with albums like Michigan, Seven Swans and his breakout album Illinois. The songs had titles so long they sounded like they were titles from 19th Century novels. And let’s not forget his pledge to make an album exploring the history of every single state in the US. Alas, he’s only managed Michigan and Illinois so far, but I wouldn’t it put it past him to return to the project! And then there was his Christianity – it’s not unheard of a contemporary white indie singer songwriter to have a faith, thought it’s probably quite unusual – but it’s the fact that his religious beliefs play such a central part of his songwriting and his themes.
What’s even more interesting is that his reputation has continued to grow, despite him making a bewildering series of creative left turns – the 42 songs Xmas album! The second 58 song Xmas album! Difficult, broken electronica on The Age of Adz, and again more recently on last album, The Ascension, which we reviewed on an early pod and it’s fair to say we struggled with! Then there’s the ambient records, the soundtracks, the collaborations. He certainly covers a lot of ground, and he doesn’t seem to mind if his audience follow him or not.
But perhaps he holds his place in the musical landscape because he’s such a fucking good songwriter. His gorgeous gossamer-light voice can float above a solo piano, or simple guitar or banjo, and you think you’re listening to an angel (He’s certainly closer to God than most of us, perhaps he has access that we don’t!). On 2015’s Carrie & Lowell, it felt like Sufjan hit a musical high point, creating a breathtaking and heartbreaking collection of songs that delved deep into his difficult relationship with his mother and her partner. I read somewhere (Pitchfork?) recently that he sometime sounds like he feels things so acutely, you almost can’t bear to listen. That’s what Carrie & Lowell sounded like to me.
So here we are 3 years on from the dense, challenging and slightly underwhelming The Ascension, and here comes Javelin, and immediately, you are struck by the beauty and the scale of it. The songwriting and style is reminiscent of Carrie & Lowell, but the arrangements are so much bigger – choirs, orchestra, and interestingly, electronics too – it finally feels like he’s taken that electronica side of his work and married it beautifully to the best of his songwriting. Early single Will Anybody Ever Love Me? was stunning – as Pitchfork said, an immediate addition to the best songs he’s written – but it was only when I sat down and listened to it on headphones for the first time that I realised just how incredible it is. What a fucking song!
Listening to the album, you’re immediately hit by the themes of loss – Goodbye Evergreen, Genuflecting Ghost (such a Sufjan title!). But then again that’s not weird, Stevens has always been obsessed with life and death, the afterlife and the now. And going into listening to this, I think we were all aware of one of the big life stories that you can’t help but add to the context of listening to the record. Stevens has been suffering from a rare autoimmune disease that has left him – temporarily hopefully – in a wheelchair. Of course he’s been thinking about death, you think. He’s just had the fright of his life.
The reviews are in and they are glowing, everyone riffs on the usual Sufjan themes, it gets called a masterpiece, and you think, OK, I think I’m beginning to understand this record. And then…and then…and then…after the release, this…
Jesus fucking Christ. Not only has he been wheelchair bound for the last year, but he lost the love of his life – a man and a relationship – and let’s be clear, a sexuality – that he had hidden from the world. It is, of course, hardly a surprise that Sufjan is queer, but the fact that he went through something so unbelievably traumatic and has only just shared it with the world, after making arguably the finest music of his life. I mean, I can’t even process.
And then you listen to the album again. And you hear the opening lines:
Goodbye, Evergreen
You know I love you
But everything heaven sent
Must burn out in the end
And you realise this album is about Evans Richardson and the love that Sufjan felt for him. Fucking hell. And then you listen to Will Anybody Ever Love Me? again…
Tie me to the final wooden stake
Burn my body, celebrate the afterglow
Wash away the summer sins I made
Watch me drift and watch me struggle, let me go
And then Genuflecting Ghost…
Give myself as a sacrifice
Genuflecting ghost I kiss no more
Penultimate track Shit Talk is one of those 8 minute Sufjan songs. I approached it with trepidation, but I think it might be the most complete, brilliant and perfect 8 minute song he’s ever written. Of course, I thought it was about relationship arguments, and maybe it is, but it’s about an argument with someone who’s dead or dying.
No more fighting
I’ve nothing left to give
I’ve nothing but atrophy
Did I cross you?
Did I fail to believe in positive thoughts?
Our romantic second chance is dead
I buried it with the hatchet
Quit your antics
Put them at the foot of the bed
And set it, on fire
I will always love you
But I cannot look at you
I’m listening as I write – again! – and it still moves me to tears nearly every time. Maybe it feels a bit premature to start talking about this as the album of the year – and there other contenders – but I can’t imagine Stevens putting any more of himself into his music, and turning what must be unimaginable trauma into one of the most beautiful albums I’ve heard in years.
thisisnothappening.net 
Echoing David’s thoughts, I’ve been a long standing Sufjan fan. I’d like to think that I’ve stuck with his musical journey more than most. I even sit in the camp (it’s a small band of people) that I actually quite like his Christmas albums. For the record, I’m the only one in my house that does. The whole experience of reviewing The Ascension was a bit disappointing and challenging for me. I struggled with my critique of his music as I didn’t like that he was trying something new. I just wanted the familiar calming sounds of Sufjan that have been a big part of my journey as an adult. The indication from the first few singles from Javelin came as a great relief for me; he was back in the lane that Sufjan sounds like in my head.
On the first listen, the album filled me with a comfort; it felt like this is his best work to date with hints some of my favourite songs dropped throughout. Upon my second listen the realisation started to sink in that Sufjan was opening up on this album. In-fact I visited his previous albums just to confirm internally in my head that though he has always made beautiful songs, they have been a bit guarded and vague. The closest he previously came to his deeper thoughts were the tracks that he did for the ‘Call Me By My Name’ soundtrack, but those were inspired by the movie, and its’ story (or were they?).
As David has explained, there’s A LOT to unpack in this album when you account for the trauma that Sufjan has gone through; and he has laid it all out over 10 tracks. In short I think this is his best work. I’m still digesting the lyrics. I’m picking up on new lines with every listen. Weirdly I’m not sure if a month is enough time to fully listen to and understand this album ahead of us discussing it on the pod.
I’m on a deep dive with this album, its’ naked honestly is both beautiful and heart breaking.
Even before I chose The Ascension as AOTM back in 2020, Sufjan seems to come up in This is Not Happening conversation a lot. He feels like an ever present artist if you like the kind of music we like and read the kind of stuff we read. So it feels weird that this is only the 2nd Sufjan album we’ve done because we talk about him all the time.
David, as always, great write up, you should consider doing this for a living. However, you use the word ‘we’ quite liberally in your write-up when referencing ‘our’ views on previous Sufjan albums. To set the record straight, I really like the Age of Adz. It was the first album I bought after my daughter was born and I love every second of it (whilst understanding why others don’t). I also really like The Ascension (while understanding all of the criticisms that were raised when we reviewed it. I remember feeling pissed off after recording that episode as I feel I didn’t stand my ground enough. Sorry Sufjan, I let you down.
One thing that I do agree wholeheartedly with is that Carrie and Lowell is Sufjan Sufjan’s masterpiece. With that in mind, I think Javelin is the album that sits closest to Carrie and Lowell as any other Sufjan album. However, I don’t think Javelin would exist in its current form without the experimentation of The Ascension. It feels like with that album, Sufjan was practicing many of the things he perfected on Javelin.
It’s clear that Sufjan is a great storyteller, he tells emotionally charged stories and presents them with a beautifully poetic touch. But they don’t always feel like his stories. Often they feel like they are the stories of those around him. This was not the case on Carrie and Lowell however. That is an album of deeply personal stories and as a listener I find it close to impossible not to engage. This is precisely the pattern repeated on Javelin and the impact once again is an engagement that is impossible to deny. As David said, the album hit hard, then the revelation of Evans Richards is shared and your experience is turned upside down, intensified, deepened and re-energised. It’s almost like he released 2 albums.
I do really like this album. But like Nolan I am still coming to terms with it. I’ve actually not had the opportunity to listen to it as much as I would have liked. My wife lost her best friend to cancer around the release of Carrie and Lowell. That album means a lot to us. Death with Dignity are 3 words I can barely type without my eyes welling up. So, Stacey has found it almost impossible to listen to this album, particularly when she has not chosen that she wants to listen to it and I have emotionally hijacked her by playing it and catching her off guard.
At 10 track and 47 minutes, the album flys by. It feels like it goes round on repeat way quicker than it actually does. This is usually a great sign. There are longer tracks, shorter tracks but nothing feels cut short or indulgently extended. I, like David love Shit Talk the albums longest track at 8mins. But those 8 mins feel exactly appropriate to say what he is saying. David, I read that song exactly as you did.
In terms of instrumentation, there are plenty of electronic sounds (a la Age of Adz and The Ascension) but the album is primarily piano and banjo driven. And just in case you hate the banjo, this is banjo for people who don’t like the banjo. The instrument is used almost like a song writer would conventionally use a finger picked acoustic guitar. Sometimes you have to pause to check that it is in fact a banjo.
And yes David, Sufjan can write a tune. I shared the following as a ‘bit of a funny’ on the Whats App group but while ‘Will Anybody Ever Love Me’ was playing my son asked if I was listening to the Encanto soundtrack. At the time I thought it was cute but the more I think about it, it’s razor sharp critique. Sufjan has always played with Musical Theatre and in some respects, Musical Theatre has increasingly mimicked conventional, contemporary music. I believe Sufjan sits quite comfortably in the middle. Any comparisons to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s songwriting by my son is a massive compliment to both of them, I think they are both musical geniuses.
So. I am coming to terms with this album. I do love it. I am still learning it. It will 100% be in my top 10 … maybe even 5.
Well last to the party, in a cadre of Sufjan fans (not stans) so I wanted to bide my time before I got my thoughts down. But the 3 posts of yours before mine are mighty efforts, so there’s a lot covered, but for me, a lot to say still, too.
I have the least history with Sufjan (doesn’t that sound familiar with so many things in this place!) but you introduced me to his work with the majesty of Carrie and Lowell back in 2015 Brother Joey (here: https://thisisnothappening.net/2015/04/09/sufjan-stevens-carrie-and-lowell/). It was a pretty high water mark to encounter peak Sufjan for me – no Age of Adz, christmas albums or conceptual USA records for me – and my word it was a different time. It sounds like I’d just broken up with my last girlfriend at the time, which is a bit cringe, (reader: I met my wife about 3 months after this post, thank god!) but that album struck me in many ways. It was poignant, sparse, immediate and delicate, like it would blow away in the wind. I loved it then and I still do now. It had the energy of Bon Iver – another artist I loved back then (but do less so).
As has been said, in between then and now – for us here at least – came The Ascension in April 2020, and that was a tough experience. Overblown, self-indulgent, and lacking in a friendly ear to Steven’s lack of quality control, it felt a slog at the time, but listening again, there really was a good album trying to break out of a very long one. The first half is pretty magnificent, but it just never really stopped, and like then I couldn’t easily get to the end. What’s fascinating when you get to Javelin is seeing just how important that record was in the genesis of this one.
Yes, Javelin is a very different beast. It’s 40-odd minutes, and, save the signature ‘long Sufjan record’ (one of the standouts of the album, Shit Talk), it’s a focused, shimmering album that takes the heartfelt immediacy of C&L and the musical high points of the Ascension, and then marries them together with a set of brilliant female vocalists to make something that feels both the logical endpoint of those two records, and something much, much more, at least this early in the experience.
It was an immediate impression, from the first single, the aforementioned Sufjan classic Will Anybody Ever Love Me? That felt like all the hallmarks with its breathy vocals and plucked banjo, but then blossomed into a much more fascinating track. At once, here were the maximal synths and symphonic instrumentation of the Ascension, but here applied with much more focus and thought: songs on the album that would start so sparsely before erupting in walls of sound, with Sufjan’s delicate vocals washed into an almost choral element as they were surrounded by a set of beautiful female vocals – from Adrienne Marie Brown, Hannah Cohen and Megan Lui – that add something vital every time. There are echoes of Bon Iver again (to me) but in so many of the songs, they act like another instrument, giving another layer to the song, but never dominating, letting Sufjan’s own energy remain at the core.
The dynamics on show, and the production are mesmerising. Stevens – battling not just his own grief but a debilitating medical condition too – is at the helm of all of it, with only Bryce Dessner’s guitar on the incredible Shit Talk aside, feels like he’s taken his own M.O. and, in spite of all that tragedy that can only overlay the album, ended embracing the joy and positivity he can find in spite of all the emotional toil. I find this to be a far more positive record – major chords lie at many turns – than Carrie and Lowell, and while emotional devastation and heartbreak are constant themes, they seem to not overtake everything. And while it’s impossible to ignore the context here, while I first went back to the record with this in mind, it was hard to separate it, but now I feel there are much more universal themes, and stories there, beyond his own narrative, which it’s all too easy to weave into every single word.
The result is pretty staggering. I know an album is getting its claws into me when I wake up in the morning humming its songs: the tear-inducing opening track Goodbye Evergreen, its hopeful, lovelorn follower Running Start, the cascading Everything Rises, and the unbearably weary So You Are Tired. There’s something enticing about every track…. that is, until the final one. I’m sure there’s resonance in the cover of Neil Young’s There’s A World, but it feels a bit of a misstep. I could’ve happily had the album finish after Shit Talk, a song of 8 magnificent minutes, that feels like a 4 minute pop song that get elevated to a different level.
It’s still relatively early days – and god knows cricket and rugby world cup podcasts and end of year album lists have made listening difficult – but I am adoring this album now and it’s predictably bum-rushed my 2023 Top 10, causing havoc to my well-formed order. But I’m happy with that, we all needs albums like this in our lives.