“The Avalanche”
Sufjan Stevens
ASTHMATIC KITTY RECORDS
(Out Of 5)
If you haven’t already jumped off the Sufjan Stevens bandwagon, there isn’t a better time than now.
It’s been more than a year since the release of Stevens’ fifth album, “Illinois,” – an album that received more critical acclaim than just about any other last year, and was endlessly talked about – which means indie kids have long played it to death and moved on (to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, then Wolf Parade, then Destroyer, now TV on the Radio).
The hype, combined with the otherwise great record’s sprawling, pretentious and therefore relatively unlistenable nature (and the fact that he sounds like a girl) led to Sufjan overkill a while ago.
None of this makes his latest release, “The Avalanche,” a particularly good idea. The album is a collection of outtakes from “Illinois,” which was already several songs too long, and the last thing anyone needs right now are 20 more. Taken on their own merit, however, they serve as a testament to the prolific singer-songwriter’s undeniable gifts.
The first thing one notices about “The Avalanche” is that it feels considerably looser and less affected than his “real” efforts, which can at times feel claustrophobically crafted.
In fact, this is almost the only positive first impression of the album, because most of the opening songs are instantly forgettable. The title track kicks things off on a promising note – it’s one of those Sufjan winners that starts slow and pretty, all acoustic picking and piano, before the chorus builds with more and more singers and instruments up to an evocative and satisfying finish.
This is immediately followed by the banal and repetitive “Dear Mr. Supercomputer,” which basically sounds like the same uninspired verse over and over again with different and equally uninspired instrumental ideas behind it, and the even more banal and repetitive “Adlai Stevenson,” an entire song based around an eight-note snatch of a melody.
It is not until “The Henney Buggy Band” that the album begins to string together songs that do more than repeat one basic idea. Stevens’ formula has yet to get very complicated, and anytime he manages to harness his gift for delicate, aesthetically pleasing melodies and instrumental arrangements and stick naturally transitioning parts together in one song, the result both tugs on our emotions and takes us somewhere utterly unique with its whimsy.
Despite the songs here that succeed in this – “The Mistress Witch from McClure,” “Saul Bellow,” “Pittsfield,” and an adult contemporary version of “Chicago,” to name more or less all of them – there is ultimately too much filler and throwaway ideas on the album to hold up to Stevens’ other output.
However, though it unsurprisingly may not touch his previous heights, “The Avalanche” is, if anything, proof that Stevens can still poop out a better song than anything by the James Blunts of the world.