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It's been about two months since I got my hands on Sufjan Stevens' Age of Adz. It's also about a month before I can conscionably start on my Best Albums of the Year list, which was going to be the pretence for weaving the tale of the ridiculous backstory I have in my head for this album. But then I saw this video of him performing on Jimmy Fallon and I'm not sure whether Sufjan just Jossed my Age of Adz headcanon or if I'm partially right and he has willingly subjected himself to possession by an evil spirit but isn't fighting it.
I should probably back up a bit here, because even as far as pretendy funtimes conspiracy theories go this one is out there (which is probably why I enjoy entertaining the idea). This whole interesting spiral started, I suspect, with the release of The Avalanche. Or rather, the root of this conspiracy begins with the writing of Illinoise, during which I suspect he stumbled across or came into possession of some unknown power of songcraft that he was not entirely expecting (my pet theory is that he accidentally and/or unwittingly sold his soul), resulting in an over-abundance of lyrical and musical compositions. And when Illinoise ignited a blogstorm and suddenly everyone and their mother (and my mother and sister) loved it and him by extension, he was okay with that, but naturally he was curious about this newfound power he was wielding. He gathered the balance of the crush of songs this power had produced and put out The Avalanche, which was, in his own words, "artlessly compiled." Yet it sold better than Illinoise. And it was this so-unfortunately-rewarded crass commercialism that nudged him over the edge into philosophical frustration, though it did please the beast. What was the point in creating intricate albums if people eat up albums of singles more readily? Thus hiatus from 2006-2009, thus public existential crisis, thus massive inner struggle with the beast that possessed him and created the popular monster that was ...Illinoise.
But it was already too late. It's been only just more than I year since I saw Sufjan's tiny-venue tour of transition and marginal awkward, at which my friend![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocolatemoose and I both independently confirmed the man to be angelic. I think, however, this is a case of Wolves' Clothing, and though he tried to subdue the beast by channelling it into things that people were less likely to devour so eagerly (The BQE), what we witnessed was the beginning of its break for power. It was already forcing him back out into the spot light, literally and figuratively, to sell out, to overindulge, to artlessly compile.
But this is Sufjan Stevens! And what he produced instead is this glitchy, gritty, and at times downright creepy mental breakdown of an album that swerves back and forth between plaintive pleas for human contact and appreciation and vocalized struggles with his faith and philosophy. The inner struggle of a man possessed, of a man who's lost contact with his soul. He steps everyone in gently with "Futile Devices," just to make sure he has our attention, then turns off the lights and reveals the burning effigies and strange symbols on the walls. Its strongest moments are in its barefaced confrontation with whatever supernatural force it is that Sufjan is facing down against. "Get Real, Get Right," in which he struggles with a need to patch things up with his Lord... and if the guy who made Seven Swans having a falling-out with his Lord doesn't worry you, wait until he gives in and prostrates himself in front of the flaming idol of "Vesuvius" and gives in to whatever counter-intuitive and violent instinct he's discovered. The album takes a very distinct turn away from typical Sufjan themes at this point, eventually culminating with the downright jarring lines "And shall I kiss you even as you take me that way? / With the pill or demon as my body changes / Apparitions gone awry / They surround me, all sides / But from within I see an unholy change // I'm not fucking around / I'm not, I'm not, I'm not fucking around..."Guys, Sufjan said fuck! I don't even say fuck and he's supposed to be like, 80 times more innocent than I am! The denouement is the creepy half-smile of "Impossible Soul," the other side of the Sufjan-and-Hyde transformation, auto-tune and vapid pop hooks and all ("Do you want to be afraid" indeed!). The beast emerges victorious, having finally subsumed the last vestiges of its human host, waiving us off of our suspicion with a musical shift back to what we've come to expect from Sufjan as it sings to us using his voice: "I never meant to cause you pain / My burden is the weight of a feather." Don't mind this existential crisis, it was nothing, sorry to bother you. It coyly wears the angelic outerwear of pre-commercial, pre-accidental-soul-vending Sufjan under the pretence of working together (do I even need to quote this bit, really?). And thus it dances away, free and ready to fly in the face of his former words and appear on late-night TV.
I'm just not sure where plastering himself in day-glo sticky notes and dry-humping a day-glo sticky-noted guitar while space-alien girl-hipsters flail geometrically around him comes into it. But perhaps that's just the nature of the beast.
I should not have so much fun writing things that are this completely bonkers, I really shouldn't... but I do need an explanation for why I find everything Sufjan has released since the BQE creepy, and demonic possession certainly seems to have the balance of lyrical evidence on its side.
Dear artists of all sorts: this sort of thing is what you get when you cultivate a somewhat elusive and mysterious persona and then have a public existential crisis in plain view of a bored English major who will deconstruct anything. Just saying. Especially if the album you release afterwards is complex and interesting. And creepy, guys, creepy.
I should probably back up a bit here, because even as far as pretendy funtimes conspiracy theories go this one is out there (which is probably why I enjoy entertaining the idea). This whole interesting spiral started, I suspect, with the release of The Avalanche. Or rather, the root of this conspiracy begins with the writing of Illinoise, during which I suspect he stumbled across or came into possession of some unknown power of songcraft that he was not entirely expecting (my pet theory is that he accidentally and/or unwittingly sold his soul), resulting in an over-abundance of lyrical and musical compositions. And when Illinoise ignited a blogstorm and suddenly everyone and their mother (and my mother and sister) loved it and him by extension, he was okay with that, but naturally he was curious about this newfound power he was wielding. He gathered the balance of the crush of songs this power had produced and put out The Avalanche, which was, in his own words, "artlessly compiled." Yet it sold better than Illinoise. And it was this so-unfortunately-rewarded crass commercialism that nudged him over the edge into philosophical frustration, though it did please the beast. What was the point in creating intricate albums if people eat up albums of singles more readily? Thus hiatus from 2006-2009, thus public existential crisis, thus massive inner struggle with the beast that possessed him and created the popular monster that was ...Illinoise.
But it was already too late. It's been only just more than I year since I saw Sufjan's tiny-venue tour of transition and marginal awkward, at which my friend
chocolatemoose and I both independently confirmed the man to be angelic. I think, however, this is a case of Wolves' Clothing, and though he tried to subdue the beast by channelling it into things that people were less likely to devour so eagerly (The BQE), what we witnessed was the beginning of its break for power. It was already forcing him back out into the spot light, literally and figuratively, to sell out, to overindulge, to artlessly compile.But this is Sufjan Stevens! And what he produced instead is this glitchy, gritty, and at times downright creepy mental breakdown of an album that swerves back and forth between plaintive pleas for human contact and appreciation and vocalized struggles with his faith and philosophy. The inner struggle of a man possessed, of a man who's lost contact with his soul. He steps everyone in gently with "Futile Devices," just to make sure he has our attention, then turns off the lights and reveals the burning effigies and strange symbols on the walls. Its strongest moments are in its barefaced confrontation with whatever supernatural force it is that Sufjan is facing down against. "Get Real, Get Right," in which he struggles with a need to patch things up with his Lord... and if the guy who made Seven Swans having a falling-out with his Lord doesn't worry you, wait until he gives in and prostrates himself in front of the flaming idol of "Vesuvius" and gives in to whatever counter-intuitive and violent instinct he's discovered. The album takes a very distinct turn away from typical Sufjan themes at this point, eventually culminating with the downright jarring lines "And shall I kiss you even as you take me that way? / With the pill or demon as my body changes / Apparitions gone awry / They surround me, all sides / But from within I see an unholy change // I'm not fucking around / I'm not, I'm not, I'm not fucking around..."
I'm just not sure where plastering himself in day-glo sticky notes and dry-humping a day-glo sticky-noted guitar while space-alien girl-hipsters flail geometrically around him comes into it. But perhaps that's just the nature of the beast.
I should not have so much fun writing things that are this completely bonkers, I really shouldn't... but I do need an explanation for why I find everything Sufjan has released since the BQE creepy, and demonic possession certainly seems to have the balance of lyrical evidence on its side.
Dear artists of all sorts: this sort of thing is what you get when you cultivate a somewhat elusive and mysterious persona and then have a public existential crisis in plain view of a bored English major who will deconstruct anything. Just saying. Especially if the album you release afterwards is complex and interesting. And creepy, guys, creepy.
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*I like it when you have smart thoughts about bands and artists that I like. It makes me feel smarter/hipper by extension. And:
*I thought about our discussion on Hogwart's houses as DSM-IV categories when someone on my flist announced that she is "not a Slytherin with Ravenclaw tendencies" as she had thought, but rather the other way around. Apparently it was a major revelation. Two weeks of illness and 15 pages of research paper have stripped me of all patience and sanity, and I now want to weep for humanity.
Ahem.
Hope you're having a nice weekend!
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I can't help but wonder what brought on this revelation. Maybe the movie? Perhaps there's some new facet to Ravenclawness that was revealed therein. I just spent a few minutes reading up on the characters that are in the separate houses... I think Luna is the only main-ish Ravenclaw--she's insane and I thought she was a Hufflepuff. And Tonks is the only main-ish Hufflepuff--she's tough and I thought she was a Gryffindor. Which means it's time for my existential crisis about what house I belong in. What if I'm a full-blooded Hufflepuff?! Or what if the Houses mean nothing?!
Or I could weep for humanity with you, which is probably the better course of action. (-;
My weekend is officially devoted to finishing the
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Am I close?
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As far as canon goes, basically all we really know are the Sorting Hat songs (http://www.hp-lexicon.org/hogwarts/sorting_hat.html) and they don't even agree with themselves (is Hufflepuff hard-workers or everyone who isn't clever, brave, or evil?).
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