I don’t blog here as much as I’d like. That is mostly due to my own self-admitted laziness. I mean, when given the choice to write about what’s “hip” in the world of indie music or lay in my small, comfortable bed and play Madden NFL 2006 for 12 hours straight, well, what’s a boy to do? But there are certain times I deem blogging more a necessity than an option, and now is one of those times.
A couple months ago I was given the opportunity to see Sufjan Stevens in concert for the first, and possibly final time. I took my friend, Mike, to the show, and even begged and pleaded with Asthmatic Kitty Records to put two of our friends on the guest list, as the show had sold out in 82 seconds. I got lucky. Many who had wanted to see him perform were left out in the unseasonable cold, but me and my closest friends were there, front and center. This isn’t a brag. I consider myself fortunate for that day, and I still do.
The show itself was phenomenal. It was Sufjan’s first trek to Illinois, the site of his last major studio album, in exactly three years. The songs he played were a mixture of old and new, quick hits and head-trips. There wasn’t a single person in that room on that day who went home upset, or with tears in their eyes — and if anybody was crying (I’m sure there were a few), it was because they were so damn happy to be there.
After the tour, the interviews with Sufjan started to pour in. One here, one there, all regarding his newest project, the glorious 40-minute short film, “The BQE.” Pretty standard fare. I’ve done interviews before. I know the types of questions you’re supposed to ask. But the surprising thing, in my mind, was the way each interview eventually devolved into the guy’s pessimistic take on the music industry, and his own production.
“I no longer have faith in the album anymore,” he said in a chat with Paste Magazine. “I no longer have faith in the song.”
Sufjan’s criticism was, of course, regarding the digital era, the MP3 and the lost art of creating music for those who plan on purchasing it. And, being honest, he is completely correct. Being a musician, like being a journalist, used to mean something. There was money to be made, an audience to impress and a legend to solidify. But, like the failing journalism industry with which I, myself, identify, music has evolved — or unevolved — so mightily, one can’t help but feel confused.
I’m not saying I agree with Sufjan’s standpoint, but I definitely understand where he’s coming from. As someone who struggles to find a job that would even pay me peanuts and shaft me in the benefits department, I often question things, too. I wonder why I spent $80,000 of my parents’ money to earn a degree I can’t use. I wonder why this Internet thing hates me and keeps eliminating the jobs of my peers. I wonder, like Sufjan, what the point of it all is, and if it is even worth continuing.
The difference between he and I is, of course, about 10 years in age and a dozen well-received works of art. When Sufjan was my age, he was making magic. When I am Sufjan’s age, I may still be chasing the ghost that is a job in print media. Or any media. Differences aside, we are very much in the same boat, and for that, I not only empathize, but respect the man that much more. Yet there are hundreds, thousands of people who do not.
I follow Asthmatic Kitty on Twitter (@deathinkosovo, if you’re curious). I enjoy the links they post, because they’re usually informative and helpful and promoting of their talented roster. Today there was a reply to someone who called Sufjan an “elitist asshole” who “sneer[s] at other people.” Really? Let’s get something straight: Sufjan Stevens has zero responsibility to anybody but himself. What he says in interviews, sneering or elitist or bursting with sunshine and rainbows, does not concern, nor matter to me. Unless he comes out and says, publicly, “Derek Walker, Indie Rock Reviews blogger, you are an idiot and have no right to be my fan,” I do not care. Repeat: I do not care.
Whatever generalizations or comments or doubts Sufjan speaks to in his interviews are his own business. I have no right to assume or consider myself informed of what is going through his head at any given moment, on any given day. But, again, until he singles me out, writes me a personal letter or e-mail damning me, I will never call him out on his supposed “elitism.”
The Twitterer, who shall remain unnamed, goes onto redact their comments, finishing with a plea for a new album. For the record — pun only partly intended — I, too, would appreciate another Sufjan Stevens full-length. I’m just being honest. But, honestly, if he never produces another record, or he goes onto making 10 more — or even ends up completing the fabled “50 States Project” — I will remain unmoved. His business is just that: his business. You can’t force blood from a stone, and you can’t force art. Whether it’s posting angry essays on your homepage, tweeting @AsthmaticKitty or taking the hands-off stance like this blogger, nothing is going to change Sufjan’s mind but Sufjan himself.
So the guy doesn’t want to make a new album right now. Why do we care? My iTunes informs me I have a whopping 14.4 hours of music listed under “Sufjan Stevens.” That’s without “The BQE,” which I have purchased and yet to rip. With that, the total would easily exceed 15. Fifteen hours of Sufjan? Really? And that’s not enough to satisfy people? What else does this one man have to do to make his fans happy? He disappears for three years to work on a film and other works, but comes back to play a series of shows at intimate venues on the cheap — still not enough. At those shows he plays no less than 30 minutes of brand new, unrecorded material; songs like “Age of Adz” and “Impossible Soul” — still not enough. After the tour he makes appearances promoting his film, giving the fans who missed seeing him the month prior a chance to see him in the flesh — still not enough. He then does interviews and podcasts, explaining his position on things, being as honest as he can — still not enough.
What more do people want from him? Seriously. I want this question answered, either by Sufjan himself or one of his ungrateful, pissed off “fans.” I put that word in quotes because, really, if you’re ripping him, calling him a jerk, you do not deserve to call yourself his fan. Let’s put something out in the open, just to clear the air: Our world does not stop turning because Sufjan Stevens doesn’t feel like putting out a new album right now. Meteors are not going to cascade toward the Earth in response to Sufjan’s recent interviews questioning the state of recorded music. A plague of frogs will not rain down on humanity because a musician is at a crossroads. Get over it and leave the guy alone.
In summation, stop putting Sufjan on a pedestal. Stop with the insane demands. He is a human being first, a musician second. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a game of Madden NFL 06 to finish.
-Visit Sufjan Stevens
