BQE In Review: Sufjan’s Triumph

I'd advise not judging albums by their covers, too.

Recently, Sufjan Stevens gave an interview in which he confessed

I’m tired of these grand, epic endeavors, and wanting to just make music for the joy of making music and having it be immediate and nothing to do with the industry itself, which, y’know is suffering right now of course. And I think it has to do with a creative crisis too. I’m wondering what am I doing?

While it’s easy to take that quote out of context, torque and sensationalize it to turn it into some sort of indication of imminent retirement, the heart of his point pulses through nonetheless: he is the master of a dying form. At his finest, Sufjan is the essence of the perfect album, with an ear suited for the variegated themes (musical and lyrical) necessary to sustain a listener through the 40 to 80 minutes an album commands. And The BQE has the strength to stand up among Stevens’ other contemporary classics, delivering the feeling and range of emotion we’ve come to expect from the troubadour with the impronounceable name.

I’ll be the first to admit that, when I heard Sufjan was going to be composing an entirely instrumental suite, I was dismayed. The fact that this suite was in honor of a highway did little to assuage my fears. It seemed another flight of fancy, sure to delay the long-awaited follow-up to my potentially favorite album of the aughts, Come On, Feel the Illinoise! But I was and am an unstoppably ravenous Sufjan fan, a Sufjan omnivore, a Sufjan scavenger, searching endlessly through the internet trashcans outside his proverbial house, looking for scraps of songs and discarded ideas. I found videos, heard cell-phone recordings, and hula-hoops, some of which I would later share with you. He was starting to win me over with his trademark nerdy grace and gentle melodies.

An expressway is an odd choice for an orchestral suite. I know there are some who see emotion even in the most brutalistic and nonfeeling of concrete structures (for example, icebergxc, in his short-lived tenure on our high school’s prom committee, was uniquely outspoken in his insistence that the event be held in a parking garage; needless to say, he was one of a very select few with that opinion), but it’s certainly uncommon. Still, if there’s one musician capable of projecting Americana onto a blank gray slate, it’s Sufjan Stevens.

In many strange ways, BQE is his greatest triumph as a songwriter. It’s no easy task to convey emotions wordlessly; it’s hard enough to do so lyrically. Sufjan had already shown himself as effortlessly brilliant with tunes like “That Was the Worst Christmas Ever!,” “Casimir Pulaski Day,” “For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti,” or “Springfield,” whose lyrics are inexplicably more tear-inducing with every additional play.* Similarly, with sweeping strings and grating guitars in “Chicago,” “Sister,” or “Majesty, Snowbird,” he showed his versatility. But this tour de force knows no boundaries. It accumulates all the styles of Sufjanic brilliance from along the ways — the distortion of Seven Swans, the accessibility of Illinoise/Avalance and the electro-pop of his new songs all seamlessly combine to make an album that’s beautifully varied and eminently listenable.

Sufjan dances and moves throughout, shape-shifting between Brahms in “Movement VI — Isorhythmic Night Dance with Interchanges,” Brubeck piano-hyper-rhythmic in “Interlude III — Invisible Accidents,” and wandering with a Miles Davis Sketches of Spain horn in “Sleeping Intruder.” And all this is done with a signature Sufjan Stevens smirk, a little twee twinge or a familiar echo of a string quartet. It’s homey, familiar, and intriguingly innovative.

More than that, it’s a powerful album. You may have heard of the “Mozart Effect” on infants; I propose that there’s a “Sufjan Stevens Effect” on 20-year-olds, because I’m certainly feeling it now. But even if you aren’t like me, where every note hits as more perfect and beautiful than the last, there’s something for everyone. Even if you can’t lose yourself in it entirely, it could easily be used as a study aid (see: “Mozart Effect”) or background music for your next philosophical debating society meeting.

Simply put, I love this album. A flight of fancy it may be, but Sufjan has the musical capacity to pull it off accessibly and wonderfully. There aren’t adverbs positive enough to describe his composition. Moreover, the joy he discussed in that interview above is palpable in every one of his songs, which can easily be ascertained in one quick listen.

Let’s just hope he releases his follow-up to Illinoise soon. Some of us are dying out here.

Movement I: In the Countenance of Kings – Sufjan Stevens (YSI)

Movement IV: Traffic Shock – Sufjan Stevens (YSI)

Movement VII (Finale): The Emperor of Centrifuge – Sufjan Stevens (YSI)

*I’ve never been moved to tears by a song though, because, what am I, a wuss? Losers.