Raise your hand if you saw this coming, because I sure didn’t. Earlier this month, Sufjan Stevens announced an October/November tour—an announcement that I admittedly didn’t pay much attention to because he’s not really coming anywhere close to my neck of the woods (and I just don’t have much time for concertgoing these days). And what’s more, I’d become a little Sufjan’d out, particularly after the indulgent BQE.

And then Asthmatic Kitty broke the news: a nearly hour-long EP of brand new material that was free for the listening (and that could be had for a nominal fee). The promise of new music from the man was too much to pass up—the old Sufjan fan inside of me dies hard, I guess—and so I hoofed it on over to Bandcamp to check out All Delighted People. And suffice to say, I’m hanging my head in shame, for I should not have let my faith in the man slip. (If that makes me sound like a fanboy, then so be it.)

At first blush, All Delighted People seems like classic Sufjan. It’s sprawling and epic, musically and thematically, but quite poignant and intimate at the same time. However, careful listening will reveal subtle breaks from the Sufjan releases of yore. For starters, the production is thinner in places, even brittle. Sufjan’s inimitable arrangements are compressed and more surface-level, which means the EP sounds more “in your face”, relatively speaking. Which seems apt because musically speaking, this is some of the most adventurous music that Sufjan has put to tape yet.

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I first became aware of Keith Canisius in 2007, when Darla released the eponymous debut from Rumskib, his shoegazer project with vocalist Tine Louise Kortermand. What immediately struck me then was the sense of enthusiasm, ebullience, and yes, even joy that pervades Canisius’ music. There’s an infectious, starry-eyed giddiness to his swirling guitars and soaring vocals, such that no matter how obviously indebted he is to the great ‘gazer bands of yore, you can’t help but break into a smile and nod along as his music fills your ears.

That sense continues on through Canisius’ solo works, including last year’s Waves. However, with Openness Is Dreaminess & Everything In Between, I get the feeling that Canisius is maturing a little and looking to shed a little of the foolishness of his youth.

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If you were to make a list of artists to compose so-called “jock jams”—those ubiquitous anthems that spice up the promos and highlight reels for your favorite athletic spectacles—I sincerely doubt that The Declining Winter would be on there, not even in the bottom position. Their mopey, pastoral music isn’t exactly the sort that conjures up feelings of athletic victory and virtuosity. On the other hand, if you’re looking for music to listen to whilst crying into your pint after your team has been trounced in the finals, then they make better sense.

Which is to say that the thought of Richard Adams and Co. composing a theme for the world’s biggest sporting event strikes one as a wee bit absurd. But therein lies the charm. Musically and lyrically, “Official World Cup Theme 2010” doesn’t deviate at all from the aesthetic that the band has employed throughout its career. It may be more chipper and upbeat, but only by a smidge. The lyrics still display a penchant for nostalgic musings even as they celebrate the summer’s warmth, and the music, with its blend of acoustic and electric instrumentation, is quite enchanting. And the sample that closes out the song, of what I assume is some famous soccer match of yore—sorry fellows, I barely know anything about American football, much less the real deal—is apropos.

The disc ends with an instrumental version of the theme, and sandwiched between is “Red Kite”, a slightly more downbeat number where stabs of violin jut out from lazily plucked guitars and scattered drumming. It’s the sort of lethargically haunting music that the Declining Winter do so very well, music that may seem boring and uneventful on paper, but that nevertheless draws the listener in with its sublime details and evocative mood.

Echodrone has certainly come some distance since their 2007 self-titled EP. While “shoegazer” is probably still the best genre in which to place them, their debut full-length The Sun Rose in a Different Place reveals that that’s not the most accurate classification to make. True, the layers of shimmering guitars and sighing vocals are still there, but the band is clearly in the process of honing and refining such elements—which is both exciting and somewhat frustrating.

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