Music Review

The Age of Adz by Sufjan Stevens

by Brandon Haan

Sufjan Stevens is cool.

Which was why the CCM (Christian Contemporary Music) world practically pounced on him a couple of years ago. Because not only is Sufjan cool, but he's also a Christian...or at least he was; it depends on who you talk to nowadays. That's not something you can say about a lot of modern Christian musicians. Not many Christian artists in recent years have been able to exist within the CCM industry and still reach a respectable level of mainstream recognition, so when those few artists of faith who can both articulately use their faith in their work and create moving, meaningful art that speaks beyond Christian circles pop up every couple of years, the CCMers tend to latch on a bit.

There was just one problem when it came to Sufjan though: he didn't seem to want to be anyone's poster child. Between 2003 and 2005, Stevens, a multi-instrumentalist from Michigan, blew up out of the New York city music scene and into the national spotlight. His coming out party followed three critically acclaimed albums in three years, two of which were state-themed compositions (one for Michigan and Illinois each) and an extensive tour of the country. Additionally, his effortless self-promotion (riding the rumor he would do an album for every state) and boyish charm made him even more likeable. And then, for the Christian media community, his evangelic background (he graduated from Hope College in Holland, MI) and seemingly introspective, developed faith made him irresistible. He was the CCM Holy Grail: a Christian musician who was actually culturally relevant and widely acclaimed. And the CCM industry went a little nuts over him. There were articles, reviews, and interviews about and with Sufjan hitting just about every major Christian media outlet. Reviewers and essayists picked apart his lyrics and instrumentation, scouring his recent albums for, well, everything they could get their hands on. Interviewers probed his faith, personal life, creative methods, and artistic theory. But the biggest question was always the same. What's Sufjan going to do next?

But then something happened. Instead of heading out to begin his next big thing, Sufjan kind of disappeared from a cultural perspective. Following Illinois, he released only a Christmas compilation and B-sides album. 2009 saw the release of an instrumental ode to the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway complete with an accompanying film piece, but as far as an actual, fully fleshed-out Sufjan album, there was nothing. He performed live only a handful of times during the next few years, and the conflicting rumors of both the next state album and a debilitating creative collapse surfaced. When Sufjan himself did finally speak out towards the end of 2009, his statements were far from reassuring. He expressed his own uncertainty about whether he would continue with music or not, and more and more whispers abounded.

The rampant speculation ran wild until Sufjan's All Delighted People EP surfaced in the summer of 2010. The new work appeased fans and gave way to a collective sigh of relief from the larger indie music industry. Sufjan was still making music, and we seemed out of the danger zone. But no one realized in just what fashion Sufjan would fully storm back onto the scene. The full-length The Age of Adz followed All Delighted People only two months later, and that collective sigh was quickly retracted. Sufjan was certainly back, but he wasn't at all the same.

If Michigan, Seven Swans, and Illinois are Sufjan's canon, in many ways, The Age of Adz is his admission of heresy. Not only is the album a reversion to his pre-success electronica experiments, but it's also a dark exploration of the recent neurosis that privately nagged Sufjan the person and crippled Sufjan the artist over the past couple of years. Lyrically, the artist seems lost and confused on The Age of Adz as he tries to search for some kind of firm footing. He delves into the frustrations and pressure he faced as anticipation for his next album mounted following Illinois. Aimed at those whose overwhelming expectations so paralyzed him, specifically those in the Christian media world, The Age of Adz plays almost as a defiant statement that Sufjan no longer cares what anyone thinks, in fact that he can't care in order to make true art or to continue his own relationship with God, such as it still is.

Musically, Sufjan's efforts on The Age of Adz are at times minimalistic and rhythmic, though at others chaotic and bloated. The beauty of the album lies in Sufjan's ability to seamlessly transition from contemplative orchestration to nuanced electronic barrages of sound and back again, making for a record of complex but balanced compositions reflecting all sides of his formidable talent.

In short, the listener encounters a deep meditation in The Age of Adz as Sufjan himself tries to escape the poster child pressure imposed upon him by forces outside his control. It's his effort at proving to everyone that he just wants to make honest art, and he can't keep doing what everyone wants or expects him to if he's to be successful in that goal. Thus, The Age of Adz will certainly alienate fans looking for more of Sufjan's banjo-driven neo-folk fare, and it will also push his more mainstream Christian supporters away, given the graphic and, at times, vulgar lyrical nature of the record. But credit must be given where credit is due: Sufjan has done what it seems like he wanted to. He made a work of art. He created something worth listening to and wrestling with. He walked down his own dark night of the soul, and he wrote an album out of it. Like many others, he didn't come out of it unscathed, and neither has his work, but he came out honestly, and he maintained his artistic integrity in doing so, which is what makes The Age of Adz worth the listen.