Sufjan Stevens reaffirms place atop folk music with album

Sufjan Stevens’ new album, Carrie & Lowell, has been almost universally hailed as his best work and one of the best albums of the year, and if you think these reviews are exaggerating, you’ve never heard Sufjan Stevens.

The first time I heard Sufjan Stevens was on the soundtrack to Little Miss Sunshine, one of my favorite movies. His songs in the film serve perfectly to highlight the dysfunction and deep emotional stakes the main characters face, and since then, he has not stopped creating incredibly moving music. In 2010, on the album The Age of Adz, Stevens crafted an astonishing 25-minute song titled “Impossible Soul” that twists and turns and unravels like an orchestral piece in the 21st century. His music is unique, implementing the traditions and fables of countless cultures into his lyrics about his own personal life, and Stevens is the modern day torchbearer of the folk genre.

The Detroit native has been experimenting with his sound since he began his music career, but his newest work strips away the bells and whistles of his previous albums, leaving the young artist with a lot of emotion and simple compositions. Though the instrumentation on Carrie & Lowell is simple, Stevens’ lyrics are anything but. He talks about his family, his past and his life overall with heart-wrenchingly slow melodies and croons. The pace of this album is slow, but it is hauntingly beautiful.

“F-ck me, I’m falling apart,” sings Stevens in “No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross,” the first single off his album. Pitchfork described this moment on the album as “the barest, most honest declaration you’ll hear on a record this year.” It is deep and soulful about the passing of his mother Carrie and expresses the hopelessness he felt during this time.

Carrie Brams was Sufjan’s mother, but she was not very present in his life, according to an interview the folk artist did with Pitchfork. He spent only a few years with her before she was out of his life, only showing up at the occasional holiday or in random places. They spent only three summers together in Oregon, which is where Stevens draws most of his memories of his mother. Though he believes Carrie could have been a great mother, her schizophrenia and depression made it impossible for her to be present in the artist’s life, leaving Stevens to wonder about who his mother really is.

“As a kid, of course, I had to construct some kind of narrative, so I’ve always had a strange relationship to the mythology of Carrie, because I have such few lived memories of my experience with her. There’s such a discrepancy between my time and relationship with her, and my desire to know her and be with her,” he said.

This album is the boiling over of Sufjan Stevens’ want to connect with his mother, now two years since her death. For this reason, there are sparse drums, and the album is devoid of anything that couldn’t be done by one person. Carrie & Lowell is Stevens’ most personal work, and as such it connects to the soul in a profound way. “Fourth of July” from this album is a conversation between Sufjan and Carrie, flowing from when she is on her deathbed onwards past her death, and it highlights both his despair and the hopefulness he received from his mother.

“The hospital asked should the body be cast/ Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky/ Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth,” sings Sufjan from his own perspective after his mother has died.

“Why do you cry?/ Make the most of your life, while it is rife/ While it is light,” he sings as his mother’s response. This hope is part of Stevens’ healing process, as most of the album most likely was. Sufjan Stevens is known for his complex allusions and word choices, but here he is being clear as day. There is no question of what he means when he sings, “We’re all gonna die” to both open and close the track. There is a comfort derived in this statement, as it alleviates the fear of death, leaving only life to be lived. Stevens said in his interview that he embarked on a journey of self-destruction after his mother’s death, as evidence in some of the song lyrics on Carrie & Lowell, but that he ultimately found some closure, which he then put into the above song.

“I quickly learned that you don’t have to be incarcerated by suffering, and that, in spite of the dysfunctional nature of your family, you are an individual in full possession of your life,” he said in the interview.

Carrie and Lowell is a compilation of the sufferings Sufjan Stevens went through after the death of his mother, and by sharing it with the world, he has allowed others to embark on a healing process similar to his own. His work is profound and visceral, and Carrie & Lowell is the perfect album to listen to if you want to truly be moved.

Matt Burke is a sophomore majoring in film production. His column, “Notes on Notes,” runs Wednesdays.