Plenty of folks have pointed out that Sufjan Stevens’ Songs For Christmas set—which collects Sufjan’s storied 5 Christmas-themed EPs and wraps them all up in a deluxe package complete with essays, videos, photos, and stickers(!)—presents an interesting historical document of Sufjan’s burgeoning skills as a songwriter and composer.  Across the 5 EPs—which stretch all the way back to 2001—you get a concise portrait of Sufjans movement from breathy banjo-picker to full-fledged conductor, as each successive EP grows in musical scope.

Viewing Songs For Christmas only on an historical basis, as a sort of interesting collection of curios that are viewed more as footnotes in Sufjan’s overall discography, is to miss the point entirely, not to mention the beauty and even power contained within these 5 discs.

Listening to Sufjan’s renditions of these classic Christmas carols—which range in tone from cheeky to casual to reverent—as well as his own contributions to the seasonal canon, one can’t help but be struck by the way in which he redeems the songs from their status as cheesy, overly-familiar tunes that have been stripped of much of their profundity by Christmas pageants, TV commercials, and department store muzak.

At their best, which is to say almost always, the renditions on these 5 discs ultimately serve as a reminder that Christmas carols are actually some of Christian theology’s best and brightest proponents, encapsulating both the wonderful dread and terrible hope that lies at the heart of the holiday.

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Let’s get a few things out of the way first.  Yes, I realize that the title of Sufjan Stevens’ latest is actually Sufjan Stevens Invites You To: Come On Feel The Illinoise.  And yes, I realize that the full song titles include such gems as “They Are Night Zombies!! They Are Neighbors!! They Have Come Back From The Dead!! Ahhhh!” and “Out Of Egypt, Into The Great Laugh Of Mankind, And I Shake The Dirt From My Sandals As I Run”.  However, for both for the sake of your time and my typing fingers, I’m simply going to refer to this album as Illinois and to the song titles in as concise a manner as possible.

Now, I’m sure that some of you are probably thinking “See! The fact that you even had to begin your review of Sufjan Stevens’ latest in such a precocious manner proves just how precocious this disc is!”  And the thing is, you’re absolutely right.

I suppose you have to pretty precocious to begin recording albums for every one of the 50 States in the Union—only to actually have the gall to follow up on such a promise with lyrics full of historical, cultural, and geographical references that take the form of childhood memories, devotionals, character sketches, tone poems, etc.  And the final straw would have to be wrapping it up in a music style that touches on everything from Steve Reich to Vince Guaraldi, from Stereolab to Eric Matthews.

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I don’t think it’s even been a year since Sufjan Stevens’ Michigan arrived in my mailbox (and shortly thereafter became one of my fave albums of 2003), but we’ve already got a brand new album of original material from the man to savor.  And this won’t be the only Sufjan release we see in 2004, either.  Asthmatic Kitty is re-releasing Michigan as a limited edition double vinyl which will include the outtakes that, until recently, were available on his website.  And rumor has it that a Christmas recording will also be released sometime this year, drawing from a series of EPs that had only been available at concerts.

One has to wonder if releasing such a large amount of material in such a relatively short amount of time is the wisest of moves.  After all, you don’t want to risk saturating the market or draining the creative juices.  But luckily for us, Stevens hasn’t been paying attention to the conventional industry wisdom.  There’s always room in “the market” for music this inspired, and it’s obvious throughout Seven Swans that Stevens is nowhere close to scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to inspiration and creativity.

Seven Swans is more stripped down and naked than anything Stevens has released to date.  Gone are many of the embellishments and textures that made Michigan and Enjoy Your Rabbit such fascinating listens, and those that do remain have a much more skeletal form.  But rather than feel constrained or limited, the album feels much more liberated as a result, as if unencumbered by past arrangements and experimentation.  And being stripped of those things reveals his songwriting for the beautiful creature that it is.

The deftly-picked guitar of “The Dress Looks Nice On You” moves with a fluid grace unlike anything else in Stevens’ repertoire, and is followed by banjo flurries and Stevens’ hushed voice, which has never sounded this pensive.  “Abraham” is easily the most delicate song Stevens has yet recorded, a wisp of fragile guitar and barely-there vocals that sounds like it could dissolve in the slightest of breezes.  And “He Woke Me Up Again”, its autumnal tone heightened by a shivering organ and graceful guitar and banjo weaves, sounds like it was written for the end credits of a Wes Anderson film.

But the real strength and beauty of Seven Swans, as was the case with Michigan, lies in Stevens’ lyrics.  However, Seven Swans differs from Michigan on two counts.  First of all, it’s not a conceptual album per se (and in case you were wondering, it’s not the next in his “50 States” series).  Second, and most important of all, this is the most spiritual album Stevens has released yet.  While his previous records have never been devoid of this aspect, it’s never been as upfront and revealed as this.  Whether it’s the humble thankfulness of “To Be Alone With You” and “Size Too Small” or the triumph of “The Transfiguration”, Stevens’ Christian faith resonates throughout Seven Swans.

The album opens with “All The Trees Of The Field Will Clap Their Hands”, which finds Stevens musing “And I’m joining all my thoughts to you/And I’m preparing every part for you”.  Some might read those lyrics with ambiguity, and Stevens is certainly no bible-thumper, but the Scriptural references elsewhere in the song point to where Stevens is directing his attention.  And the unassuming and personal way in which he does so makes it all the more inviting for us to do likewise.

“In The Devil’s Territory” might be the prettiest song ever written about staring down the Beast.  Amidst a soaring banjo and organ (not to mention musical saw), and accompanied by the willowy harmonies of Elin and Megan Smith (Danielson Famile, of whom Stevens is an honorary member), Stevens sings “Be still and know your sign/The Beast will arrive in time/We stayed a long, long time… To see you/To beat you/To see you at last.”  But the very next song, “To Be Alone With You” finds Stevens at his most humble.  Singing “You gave Your body to the lonely/They took Your clothes/You gave up a wife and a family/You gave up Your ghost/To be alone with me… You went up on a tree”, Stevens paints Christ’s humilation in almost Endo-esque terms (a la “The Samurai”).  And “Abraham”, in just a few lines,  connects righteous Abraham’s call to sacrifice his son Isaac with a coming Messiah.

As the album winds down to a close, Stevens grows even bolder, and Seven Swans closes on notes both traumatic and triumphant.  Seven Swans opens with a solemn banjo progression as Stevens describes the Apocalypse unfolding before him in both personal and cryptic ways.  The song’s tone grows increasingly urgent, underscored by the ominous piano that rolls in like ancient church bells.  By its end, Stevens is plaintively crying “He will take you/If you run/He will chase you/He is the Lord” amidst crashing cymbals like an Old Testament prophet pleading with unrepentant Israel.

Thankfully, Stevens does not end things on a fearful note, but rather with the triumph of “The Transfiguration”, in which the presence of God is a relief rather than a terror.  In his inimitable fashion, he turns this biblical account, where Jesus’ glory is revealed before the Crucifixion, into a reflection on the exact meaning behind of His life, death, and resurrection.  As a result, the album ends on a celebratory chorus—“Lost in the cloud, a voice/Have no fear! We draw near!/Lost in the cloud, a sign/Son of Man! Turn Your ear!”—which is as good a summation of the Good News as I’ve heard.

I found it interesting to listen to this song, and the album as a whole, so soon after having seen “The Passion Of The Christ”.  Mel Gibson’s film paints a very stirring and powerful portrait of Christ’s sacrifice with horrific violence and intense drama.  And yet, for me, Seven Swans brought about much of the same contemplation and gratitude, if not moreso, only with the barest of whispers.

With his humility and subtlety, Stevens gets it right where so much of the “praise and worship” music out there gets it so very wrong so much of the time.  Rather than make huge, sweeping theological statements and generic “feel-good” platitudes, Stevens’ communicates things of the faith in very personal and intimate terms, drawing on darkness and sadness as much as wonder and triumph.

I know that others might listen to Seven Swans and not get any of this, aside from the explicit references to “Jesus” (but even then, they’ll still end up with an album of gorgeous folk-pop).  But many of the phrases and images that Stevens’ employs have often moved me to contemplation and yes, even worship, be it the humble realization that closes “To Be Alone With You”, the longing for the Messiah to come in “Abraham”, or “The Transfiguration”‘s jubilee.  And as one who is often skeptical of the “W word” and the way it’s often tossed around and cheapened within religious circles, that means a very great deal.

Sufjan Stevens’ Enjoy Your Rabbit still ranks as one of my most beloved electronic albums.  But I remember when I first listened to it.  I found it rather daunting, more a ragged mass of sonic debris than anything else.  However, with repeated listens, the album revealed itself like a kaleidoscope.  Each listen coalesced into patterns of bright, colorful sound that seemed fresh and new with each listen.  Yes, it was messy and chaotic, but it was also utterly exhilarating, exhibiting a sense of wonder one doesn’t often find in music (much less in electronic music).

Needless to say, I was pretty excited to hear that Stevens would be releasing a new disc this year.  I couldn’t help but wonder what he had planned for Enjoy Your Rabbit‘s follow-up.  I had interviewed him at last year’s Cornerstone, and he mentioned that he never wanted to make an electronic album like Enjoy Your Rabbit again.

At first, a comment like that might seem alarming, and one listen to Michigan does indeed reveal that Stevens’ fascination with electronics, though still present, has become more subdued this time around.  However, this is by no means a bad thing, as Stevens’ love for crafting beautiful, complex arrangements is still in full effect.

No song is a simple affair for Stevens, even if it’s the sparsest of acoustic ballads.  Nearly all of his songs are graced with layer upon layer of vocals and instrumentation, and his arrangements are so well done they seem practically effortless.  Stevens brings an amazing number of nuances to his music, nuances that are often hidden within the folds of Stevens’ songs.

I’ll wager that even after you’ve listened to Michigan countless times, you’ll still hear some new sound or fragment that makes it seem new all over again.

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