Sufjan Stevens: Carrie & Lowell

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August Napolitano

Rating: 9.5/10

Highlights: Death with Dignity, All of Me Wants All of You, Fourth of July, No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross

*Explicit Content*

Back in the early 2000s, indie folk newcomer Sufjan Stevens made a promise to release a series of albums inspired by all 50 states. Unfortunately, after the releases of Sufjan Stevens Presents… Greetings from Michigan, The Great Lake State and Sufjan Stevens Invites You To: Come On Feel the Illinoise!, he announced the whole thing was a ruse and the other 48 states weren’t getting their anthems after all—but nonetheless, the ones we got were huge, sprawling epics seemingly carried by marching bands and swarms of peppy vocalists (quite literally on the latter, in fact—affectionately dubbed Sufjan’s Illnoisemakers.) But even these albums had hints of Stevens’ early, minimalist roots seeping through on tracks such as “Holland” or “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” It came as a pleasant surprise to many when it was announced that Stevens’ 2015 release was going to be a return to that sound, and now that it’s here, I don’t think we could’ve asked for anything better.

Carrie & Lowell opens with “Death with Dignity,” a beautiful track featuring nothing more than Stevens’ finger-picked guitar and whispers that “[he’s] lost [his] strength completely.” Immediately, listeners are reminded of the early works of the late and great Elliott Smith with such sharp, personal lyrics presented with such a gentle delivery. Right from the start, we’re introduced to the “main character” of the album and half of its namesake—Stevens’ elusive mother, Carrie, who died in 2012. “I forgive you mother,” he sings, referencing Carrie’s absence throughout his childhood. “I can hear you/and I long to be near you/but every road leads to an end.” “Should Have Known Better” further elaborates that Carrie abandoned him and his family several times throughout his childhood, the first occurring when he was “three, maybe four” and she left him alone at a video store.

“All of Me Wants All of You” finds Stevens tackling the subject of an empty relationship. “On the sheet I see your horizon/all of me pressed on to you/but in this light, you look like Poseidon/I’m just a ghost you walk right through,” he laments. The song is simple like the rest of the album, eventually devolving into the repetition of its title like a shameful confession, especially given that his lover is “not the one to talk things through.”

Before the album continues down a deeper, darker path, “Drawn to the Blood” and “Eugene” act as a bridging point. In the former, Sufjan is seen at his most vulnerable, asking questions such as “how did this happen?” or “what did I do to deserve this?” to nobody in particular.  In “Eugene”, we’re introduced to Lowell, Stevens’ stepfather and Carrie’s second husband. It is noted that Lowell once did not know how to pronounce the name “Sufjan,” and instead opted to call him “Subaru.” Even though, Lowell was always a father figure for Stevens, and, much like his plea in “Death with Dignity,” he admits he “wants to be near” Lowell.

But as heart-wrenching and mournful as these tracks are, nothing really prepares the listener for “Fourth of July” – a song that chronicles Carrie’s death and her relationship with Sufjan in more detail than any track preceding it. “The evil it spread like a fever ahead/it was night when you died, my firefly,” hits hard –and those are only the first two lines of what appears to be a conversation of sorts between Stevens and his mother. “What could I have said to raise you from the dead?/Oh, could I be the sky on the fourth of July?” he begs. But he still continues to have his doubts about Carrie and can’t forget their strained relationship (“Sitting at the bed with a halo at your head/was it all a disguise like junior high?”) “Did you get enough love, my little dove?” Sufjan imagines Carrie asking him. “Why do you cry?/I’m sorry that I left, but it was for the best.” The heartbreaking exchange of confessions and almost childish terms of endearment ultimately end in Stevens repeating, over and over again, “We’re all gonna die.”

“The Only Thing” goes into explicit detail about just how dark of a time Carrie’s death was for Sufjan. Following it, he engaged in a fair share of self-destructive behaviors, and he admits few things kept him from “driving [his] car…into the canyon at night” or “carving [his] arm” then, as “everything [he] feels returns to [Carrie] somehow.” These emotions are brought up again later in the second-to-last track of the album, “No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross,” where Sufjan confesses he was truly “falling apart,” drinking heavily and abusing drugs, mirroring the actions of his mother throughout her life, later admitting that he “started to believe that [he] was genetically, habitually, chemically predisposed to her pattern of destruction.” When he sings, “I’ll drive that blade through the center of my heart/Lonely vampire inhaling its fire/I’m chasing the dragon too far,” the genuine heartbreak in his voice is awfully apparent.

“Blue Bucket of Gold” finds Stevens longing for an honest friend, eventually pleading, “Lord, touch me with lightning.” After a false ending, a wash of ethereal instrumental noise brings the song, and the album, to a slow and fitting close.

Carrie & Lowell is absolutely devastating in all of the right ways, and is a perfect match for anyone looking for some stripped-back singer-songwriter music in the vein of Bon Iver and the likes. Be warned that this album will hurt with its brutal honesty and melancholy instrumentation, but the pain is completely worth it.