Endowed with the rare talent of constructing an environment of sound, Sufjan Stevens might as well be the smart kid in high school everyone loves to hate. He’s mastered indie rock, multiple classical instruments, and has a feather-light voice known for delivering smart, heartfelt lyrics. But after laying low for five years, he’s probably lost his edge and could be beaten by such baroque pop acts as Beirut and the Decemberists.
Stevens is known for pursuing projects that, when described on paper, sound like terrible ideas (read: “Illinois,” an ode to Illinois towns and history, and the state itself), but salvages the disaster of folk and electronic dynamics into a gem. It probably sounds like crap, doesn’t it?
But Stevens makes it work. The sound is new, wise and edgy, and he’s taken orchestral pop into new realms that ooze electronica. “The Age of Adz” blends Stevens’ signature sound of classical instruments and ethereal vocals with the latest taste in synth boops and beeps. This is the equivalent of Stevens joining the basketball team and pissing everyone off when he’s automatically made team captain because of his exceptional skill.
“Futile Devices” opens the album in classic Sufjan candor: gentle whisper-singing, harp plucks, harmonic voice layering and ambling guitar. The second track, “Too Much,” catches seasoned fans off guard with the first two minutes containing synth drips and distorted explosions. By the bridge, Stevens gels both dynamics, including the drips and distortion with a string section and fluttering woodwinds.
While it’s a grand effort and great to hear this experiment of yin and yang packaged and polished, it seems as if as Stevens progresses in his musical growth, so does his arrogance. Therein lies the frustration with this artist. Yes, his music is brilliant, but he believes “Impossible Soul” is so great it’s worth publishing the original cut—a whopping 25-minute long track to conclude the album.
Regardless, “The Age of Adz” is a far more personal record than its predecessors, and with his bolder words and how he delivers them, he’s bound to fall victim to his own ego. The lyrics follow a theme of maturity and reflection, as evident on songs such as “I Walked” and “Now That I’m Older.” But, it’s not to say Stevens doesn’t have fun with his newfound musicality (“Get Real Get Right,” “Age of Adz”), or doesn’t return to old-school poetic prose, such as in “Vesuvius.” Stevens breaks out of his soft singing, such as when yelling “I’m not fucking around” as “I Want to Be Well” bleeds into the closing opus “Impossible Soul,” in which he and a chorus repeat, “We can do much more together/It’s not so impossible.” Granted, the simple words seem more like a campfire chant at a church retreat by minute 17, but they hold a stronger impact upon the vocalists’ delivery.
Stevens may not have mastered the realms of trippy pop, as bands such as Yeasayer have, but he’s certainly a force to be reckoned with. He continues to pioneer unsought territories and set up camp in the most unpromising of environments, only to mine gold.
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