This album has me wavering slightly between two different emotions.
The first, which is perhaps a bit rarer goes a bit like this: well, this is a bit of a surprise, but given the orchestral fertility of his previous material it should really be no surprise that a record using samples should be equally over the top, and there really is some good material in here in amongst all the bombast.
The second, which I will admit is a bit more common, goes more like this: what the fuck is all this overblown toss all about then?
At its worst this record reminds me of the most ludicrous excesses of Owen Pallett – someone else who can produce work of pure genius, but who can also so over-egg the pudding that I find him barely listenable at times. This record mostly falls into the latter category.
Usually, I will spend a lot of time dressing up in words the simple fact that I just don’t really like a set of tunes, because that’s really all music reviewing is most of the time: you instinctively like or dislike something and then you try and make up reasons after the fact, but in this case I think it’s pretty obvious what’s putting me off. The towering wall of florid artifice which has been constructed here is so massive and impenetrable that I just can’t make any emotional connection with the record at all.
With other artists, that isn’t a problem. There are bands who build whole careers on being arch, oblique and emotionally impenetrable, but Sufjan Stevens isn’t really one of them. His best work has been so poignant and so incredibly beautiful that losing that direct emotional link feels like I’ve lost almost all of what made his music special in the first place.
Vesuvius reminds me of just that when it starts, with a simpler backing, and more emphasis based on Stevens’ sad, sad voice. It’s a gorgeous opening, but as the song approaches two minutes some annoying electronic squiggly sound starts pissing about all over the place and basically just fucking ruins it.
Now That I’m Older… Get Real, Get Right… there are some really, really nice moments on this album, but the fundamental mismatch between the artistic makeup of the record and what had always appealed so much to me about Stevens’ earlier work means I find it downright irritating half the time, and merely distant and unapproachable for the rest of it.
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Sufjan Stevens – Now That I’m Older
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This is er… well, “one of those podcasts”. You know, the ones where you’re half pissed before lunch and basically mumble your way through an hour or so of incoherent rambling? Yes, one of those.
