New Release Spotlight
Sufjan Stevens
The Avalanche: Outtakes and Extras from the Illinois Album!
By Russell Hall

Covering vast geographic distances runs in Sufjan Stevens’ family. Stevens’ brother, Marzuki, is a renowned distance runner who finished among the leaders in this year’s Boston Marathon. Yet Sufjan has an even more ambitious goal - he hopes to record 50 albums, each centered thematically on a different state in the union.

“I like having restrictions and obstructions, and that’s where the state theme comes into play,” says the New York-based artist. “It’s really an artificial order, in that it creates a frame upon which I can work and create a collection of songs. But even that concept is incredibly vague. I don’t have the authority to talk about what it’s like to be a person from Illinois, for example. I can’t approach it from that perspective, so what I have to do is get firmly grounded and write about the things I observe that are within reach.

Raised in Detroit, Stevens spent a year of his teens attending a performing-arts boarding school where he studied baroque music and became proficient on a variety of instruments. In 1999, at age 23, he moved to New York City and began formal studies in creative writing. Music remained a primary interest, however, and in 2003 he released Michigan, the opening salvo in his proposed state-themed album series. The widely acclaimed Illinois followed in 2005, garnering Stevens a place on many “Best of” lists for that year.

Illinois drew praise for its lyrical scope and its intricate arrangements. But as evidenced by the just-released The Avalanche: Outtakes and Extras from the Illinois Album!, Stevens wrote an even greater amount of worthy material for the project.

“After listening to Avalanche you can enjoy Illinois even more,” he says. “The new album helps you to recognize the decisions that were made in constructing Illinois. I didn’t feel a conviction to make everything cohesive on Avalanche, since I was working with outtakes. But because I had so much material that mimicked what was on the original record, there was a certain pattern, or a certain narrative, that was already there. I just needed to discover that.”

Clocking in at more than 75 minutes, The Avalanche constitutes a treasure trove for fans who were drawn to Illinois’ character studies, narrative style and epic sweep. Three versions of the Illinois centerpiece track “Chicago” appear on The Avalanche - an “acoustic version,” an “adult contemporary easy listening version” and yet another rendition that’s subtitled a “multiple personality disorder version.”

“That song is a good example of my work habits,” Stevens offers. “It’s so simple that it lends itself to all kinds of interpretations. I was unsettled about how to approach it, to the point that I ended up doing it four different ways. I don’t even like that song that much, because it is so primitive, but there’s something about it that’s appealing. It’s like
candy. You start eating it, and you can’t get enough of it.”

Other high points on The Avalanche include the banjo-driven “Mistress Witch from McClure,” the languid piano ballad “Pittsfield” and a song titled “Dear Mr. Supercomputer” that’s probably the best of the album’s several orchestral pop excursions. Stevens - who writes on piano, acoustic guitar and banjo - says the style of any given song is dictated by the instrument he chooses.

“The piano allows for more embellishment and drama,” he explains. “I find that those songs have more grandeur. The acoustic guitar, on the other hand, lends itself more to the accompaniment of the human voice. Those songs tend to have more of a narrative quality. Oddly enough, though, the banjo is the most satisfying, probably because it has a smaller sound and dynamic. I have to rely on instinct since I’m not singing over any embellishments.”

Stevens guards against a tendency to over-arrange. “I add too much and then have to decide what to retract,” he says. “It’s like having a block of material from which to sculpt, where you have to cut things away to discover the shape of what you’re making.”

And how does he know when he’s sculpted a worthy piece of music? Mostly it’s a question of time.

“At some point it’s important to have an emotional distance from your writing,” he says. “You need that in order to make an educated decision about what’s a good and a bad idea. Time doesn’t equal conviction. You can’t measure the value of art based on the time you put into it.”

Perhaps that’s a good thing - while Stevens’ fans will enjoy the many records to come, it’s unlikely he’ll have the time to fulfill his nationwide albums ambition. Although we’re looking forward to hearing that Delaware record in our 80s.