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.
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