![]() ![]() But while the image of an addled brain without a focus is supposed to help us imagine a Sufjan we should abandon, I find the opposite to be true. I admit what got me interested in Age of Adz was Sputnik staffer Alex Silveri’s characterization of the current Sufjan, of him holed up in a windowless room, losing hold on an already-shaky grip of reality, letting his wild imagination consume him. And destroy both he does, crafting post-modern Frankensteins of pastoral folk, electronic bleep-bloops, orchestral swells, dance-pop, hip-hop, whatever. If we’re keeping the Lord of the Rings analogy going, Faramir is all of music, which of course isn't dead, but since Denethor/Sufjan believes it to be dead, he must destroy its corpse along with himself (This probably makes Matt Berninger Gandalf, but I digress). Like, I dug the horns, but where was the risk, man? Well, here it is: if you were like me and found Illinois on the conservative side, Age of Adz is like Sufjan playing Russian Roulette by himself and five of the six chambers have bullets. Yes, objectively, it’s wonderful it is the work of an ambitious songwriter who also happens to be a lyrical virtuoso, but in essence, I felt a disconnect between the mildly obtuse album it was and the bat shit composer behind it. ![]() I will let you in on a secret: I did not particularly care for Come On, Feel the Illinoise. ![]() You know the end of Return of the King, when Denethor is mad with power and about to destroy Faramir by setting him on fire, only to realize he's not dead and so, unable to reconcile himself, he hurls his flaming body unto the charging armies of Mordor? Ladies and Gentlemen, I present Sufjan Stevens, Steward of Gondor, and his Battle for Middle Earth, The Age of Adz. It leads to an article of imminent death. ![]()
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