Sufjan Stevens cannot be pinned down. He’s built a myth of himself through numerous releases, each different than the next but still managing to retain a unifying, central voice. He’s been called a genius among other praise. Some regard him as one of the greater minds in songwriting today.
With the release of his newest album Carrie & Lowell, Stevens returned to his simpler style of songwriting that is giving everyone’s therapist a run for their money. His new work is more personal than his usual fare, and that’s saying a lot.
But on my way to his show (my first) at the Citi Wang Theatre, I had a few questions buzzing around in my head. How was the new material going to translate live? The songs being so delicate, I was curious to see how he would handle them when nestled against any other of the music from his vast catalogue.
Moses Sumney started the night off with his own brand of folky stylings. It’s fairly apparent he’s an upcoming star. Sumney puts his own masterful spin on folk, creating dense, romantic sounds with a loop petal.
Then came the headliner. Stevens has never shied away from theatricality on stage, (remember that massive, winged backing band?) but for this tour he stripped away almost all stage flair to present the honesty of the new material.
That’s not to say that the new band wasn’t full-sounding. Backed by four other multifaceted musicians, Stevens began the show with “Redford,” an older, instrumental tune from Michigan. They laid down lush harmonies before a very minimal backdrop of a few LED screens playing fuzzy, nostalgic home videos.
Songs like “No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross” and “Eugene” were kept as simple as possible, while others like “Should Have Known Better” and “All Of Me Wants All Of You” were more fleshed out and refocused with electronic elements. Stevens took so many well-thought-out creative liberties that it made Carrie & Lowell seem all the more intentional.
Often, Stevens placed himself in the spotlight and let the simple beauty of the music speak for itself. He stumbled a few times playing the music, having to deftly restart one verse on “Eugene” when he appeared to choke up and lose his place. But all the little stumbles made the set all the more honest—it felt as far removed from overly-polished as it could be. And for an artist known for both maximalism and perfectionism these days, this tour must be cathartic for him in so many different ways. Stevens didn’t say much to the crowd, save for a lengthy but inspiring stint in which he spoke to the crowd his ruminations about death, the most recent muse for his art.
The most notable change of style that Stevens took with this tour was the way in which he framed some of the new songs. While some were kept to just the bare minimum of an acoustic guitar, others were beefed up and elongated post-rock jams. While just the idea of that might be enough to pop the blood vessels in the heads of some fanatics of the new record, it in no way stole the beauty of pieces performed. The new approach allowed the emotion of the songs to really be explored—the sweeping waves of music took root in the best possible way. It allowed for people to turn to introspection amongst the expanses. Stevens even jammed out to a super proggy synth solo during “Carrie & Lowell.” It was beautiful.
The only time the light show let loose was for the closer (not the encore) “Blue Bucket of Gold” which swelled up to the band’s max while disco balls radiated from behind the LEDs. Their sound was brought to its most full for this, and the effects drew any remaining breath out of the audience’s lungs, assuming they had any left at this point.
Stevens and co. closed off the night with a four song encore, three of which were from Illinois. Of course, they closed off with Chicago, which might not have fit so well with the set had they not approached the set the way they had. It ended up working, and the crowd left the theatre bleary-eyed and in need of a good hug.
