Sufjan Stevens
Illinois
(Asthmatic Kitty, 2005)

I had forgotten how much I love this album. But I needn’t have forgotten. I needn’t do more than simply Google “Sufjan Stevens, Illinois” and see the returning results—golden review after golden review, glowing adorations of love for Sufjan Stevens and his portrait of lyrical, orchestral, and thematic mastery. Upon its release in 2005, some critics found it without fault. A few found it somewhat pretentious, but that was part of its charm. I didn’t review Illinois the first time around, and to be honest, I haven’t listened to it in quite a while. In fact, though I find him extraordinary, I’ve taken to skipping Sufjan Stevens when my iPod is on shuffle. I think it’s because, looking back on the comprehensive nature of his music, it’s just all so much. Between his haloed vocals, chiming cellos, and lullaby-like songs, it can be, at times, too pretty. Am I really saying that? Me who loves all things harmony and piano and choruses and banjo and sweeping, colorful lyrics—these are elements that are found all over this record. While I claim I love this album, why have I stopped listening to it?

Stevens is without a doubt one of the more ambitious musicians out there on the rock scene today. He’s been quoted as saying his intention is to write one album for each of the 50 states. Illinois is his second state, released two years after the also very well-received Michigan. But ambition doesn’t necessarily translate into longevity or profound artistic accomplishment, right? So it’s only necessary that after all the hype has died, the adoration for this prodigal young talent has taken its time to roost, that Illinois is retrospectively approached and dissected. So I take this album on, I embrace it, I listen time and again, re-playing songs in their entirety, or in pieces, looking up lyrical passages to make sure I’m getting the words right… it was high time for another listen, or 10.

When I listen to Illinois (also called Come On Feel the Illinoise), I liken it to digging through a vast library of both sounds and stories, words and instruments, one comprised of fragrant green grass and streaming rays of sunshine flooding through high-arced windows. And yet, latent underneath is a dark cavern of skuzzy street corners and swampy, soulless sinkholes. There is so much depth and beauty to this album that I nearly get buried in it. And it’s impossible to merely scratch the surface to extract its beauty, because it’s the darkness and the intricate commentary on human nature that provides the soul behind this piece of work.

First thing first: This album is dense. It’s a record with a cumulative feel, with so many references littered throughout its 20 long tracks that most any listener can find allusions to familiar places. Even the song titles themselves are heavy in their own right, with names like “Come On! Feel the Illinoise! Part 1: The World’s Columbian Exposition/Part II: Carl Sandburg Visits Me in a Dream” and “They Are Night Zombies!! They Are Neighbors!! They Have Come Back From the Dead!! Ahhhhh!” Whimsically charming, yes, but perhaps a little self-indulgent, too? What about the track named “A Conjunction of Drones Simulating the Way in Which Sufjan Stevens Has an Existential Crisis in the Great Godfrey Maze”?

Song names aside, Stevens packs a lot of punch into these 20 compositions, each one beautiful, memorable, and literary in scope. The album commences with a haunting ode called “Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, IL”, which starts with crystalline piano and ethereal flute while Stevens’ heavenly vocals sing about celestial visions on planet earth within a religious framework (“Three stars delivering signs and dusting from their eyes”). Next up is “The Black Hawk War, or, How to Demolish an Entire Civilization and Still Feel Good About Yourself in the Morning, or, We Apologize for the Inconvenience But You’re Going to Have to Leave Now, or, ‘I have fought the Big Knives and Will Continue to Fight Them Until They Are Off Our Lands!’” (yes, that really is the title), which involves what sounds like an oboe and some angelic choruses by a cast of singers who are probably Stevens’ good buddies (he is quite the collaborator). This one kicks in with dramatic snare drum and a brazenly uplifting horn to evoke some mystical presence to quiet Stevens’ maniacal need for theatrical arrangements. It is that grandiose.

“John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” is an achingly beautiful tune about the Chicago-based serial killer of the same name, and here Stevens cries, “And in my best behavior / I am really just like him / Look beneath the floorboards / For the secrets I have hid,” tearing into that nasty inherent evil of our race. “Jacksonville” is a piano and banjo composition that is one of my favorites on the album, with his commentary on the social culture of the city; so pristine is the melody and layers of instrumentation. “Chicago” is a flowing beauty, one of Stevens’ better known songs. It’s a sprawling blanket of a composition about hitting the road, with a chorus of voices and Stevens thoughtfully singing, “If I was crying in the van, with my friend / It was for freedom / From myself and from the land.” How’s that for a poignant sentiment from one of our generation’s more prolific voices? The album ends with the blatantly biblical song, “Out of Egypt, into the Great Laugh of Mankind, and I Shake the Dirt from My Sandals as I Run.” Makes sense that he would part by commenting on the most famous exodus in history.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t fit it into my word count the dissection of every song on Illinois for this article. There is, quite simply, far too much to say about the album, which delves into the state of Illinois, notable real life figures, Christianity, society, reflection, the Bible, inner peace, America… I imagine if it’s not already in the works, the folks over there at 33 1/3 have a book in their series allotted to this brilliant record. And while maybe I had shelved it for a while there, I’ve wholeheartedly come to realize that this album is one with the kind of endurance that will make it a classic in the indie rock cannon. I needed to spend more time with it, as it now sounds even better with the passage of time permeating its intricate layers.

Watch: “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” [at youtube.com]

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