Author's Note: I had been planning to keep with tradition for my 300th review, and cover something classic that I had owned and loved for many years. It's something I like to do when I reach an Epinions milestone like this. However, I've stumbled across a disc recently that has just been begging me to extol its virtues to the world at large - a recent classic that, had I discovered it in time, would have definitely made my Top 5 albums for the year 2003. I present it to you here, in the hope that it will have a shot at earning its way into heavy rotation in some of your CD players and Winamp play lists, as it definitely has for me.

A few months ago, I had never heard of Sufjan Stevens. Now I'm a big fan. Sometimes an artist with a unique vision and a desire to sidestep most of the obvious ways of being "cool" will come along and knock me upside the head. Maybe I was just in the right mood one quiet Saturday night when I first plunked myself down with a good book and let Seven Swans work its magic in the background - as I mentioned when reviewing that album, Sufjan's latest work is a sparse, beautiful proclamation of faith and love for family built largely around the banjo and the acoustic guitar. Once I got used to that album (which didn't take that long, because I've learned to adapt quickly to mellow folk-styled albums if the lyrics are interesting enough), I just assumed I had Sufjan's M.O. all figured out. But as it turned out, I had a bit of catching up to do.

Sufjan's 2003 album, Greetings from Michigan: The Great Lakes State, marks the beginning of that effort to get caught up. And it's one of those albums that has stopped me dead in my tracks, demanding my admiration before it moves on. The "simple" adjective that could be applied to much of Seven Swans doesn't quite cut it here. This is still a fine work of folk music, but thanks to Sufjan's proficiency with 20-some-odd instruments (I may be exaggerating, but if I am, it's not by much), there's a lot more layering and diversity of sound than you're likely to find on the average folk album. Given Sufjan's love for instrumental variation, his use of interesting time signatures and odd song structures in a few places, and the thematic constraint of focusing on his home state for the entirety of an album, it would seem that his mindset is a little closer to the progressive rock camp. But it's not rock music by any stretch of the imagination. It's not pop, even if some of the melodies and rhythms are indelible. The sound is a lot fuller and richer than I'd expect from an indie project. So just what it's going on here?

I think the best way to look at Michigan is to view it as a photo album. It may not be the official tourist pamphlet for the state, since Sufjan seems to spend a lot of his time poring over photographs of common places where middle and lower class people struggle to eke out a living. His photos are candid and sometimes heartbreaking, but at the same time, the imagery of all of these cities and rivers and other landmarks takes the listener on a refreshing journey. It's hard to tell where his own life begins and where the lore of fictional characters begins. Even if the stories within are sometimes sad ones, they don't sound like they're coming from a guy who's trying to get you down, or who wants to go off on an angry tirade about how his state has gone to hell in a hand basket. The timid voice of hope rising up out of these songs would seem to indicate that it's a love letter to the place that he calls home, a ragged portrait that sees its beauty without glossing over its blemishes. Truth be told, it's an entirely different picture than the Michigan I've seen, but then, tourists always get a different view of a place than residents do. All the same, it's easy to get visions of the places that Sufjan and I have in common, and to take a mental road trip to all of these destinations.

Would you believe that this is the first of fifty albums that Sufjan plans to make about each of the United States? OK, I'm skeptical about that one myself. Besides, Bruce Springsteen already did Nebraska, Jennifer Knapp took care of Kansas, Over the Rhine claimed Ohio, and Iowa has been laid claim to by, um, Slipknot. No matter. I'm sure even New Jersey could be a captivating journey in this guy's hands. But before he gets around to one of his many sequels, let's immerse ourselves in the wonder of the Great Lakes State for a while.

Flint (for the Unemployed and Underpaid)
Since the 1st of June
Lost my job and lost my room
I pretend to try
Even if I try alone...
Our journey begins rather quietly and humbly, with the lament of a man looking for work and lodging in one of Michigan's poorest towns. Sufjan's timid voice almost shakes at times as he sings this ballad about one guy just trying to stay alive, determined to keep trying "even if I try alone". The piano is played sparsely and mournfully, and partway through it is joined by a group of horns playing in slow unison, ascending up the scale as if to indicate a quiet sense of hope amidst the fear of death that permeates this cold town. It's a very strange start, but it does set the tone for the record - the horns add a certain warmth that offset the sorrowful lyrics about dying alone on the streets, and one gets the sense that the sheer will to live is somehow going to pull this man through his poverty.

All Good Naysayers, Speak Up! Or Forever Hold Your Peace!
Entertain ideas of great communion
Shelter not materials in union
All we praise is not the kind of commerce
That's the right solution!
After getting used to the sparseness of Seven Swans, it was a strange surprise to hear a fairly upbeat song in the second slot on this album, though I must say it's a rather strange form of upbeat - piano and light drums roll along with what sounds like a 10/8 rhythm. Sufjan's banjo can be heard in the background, just to offer the song a little twang, and suddenly the menacing city doesn't seem so cold any more. This song is essentially a call to the underdogs who have complained about a lack of justice in their beloved state, reminding them that they need to get up and do something about it, or otherwise sit back and allow the poverty to perpetuate itself.

For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti
I was dressed embarassment, I was dressed in wine
If you had a part of me, will you take your time?
The album's first trip away from the big city and into the countryside feels like a warm sigh of relief despite its downbeat nature - the banjo is front and center here, methodically plucking away while light touches like piano and a hushed female vocal are added in the background. As someone who shares Sufjan's religious leanings might guess, this song is about caring for those less fortunate who have been left behind by their loved ones, and once again, the warmth of horns offers a vague sense of hope, mixing in oddly but effectively with the banjo to form a sort of backwoods Salvation Army band. I love how this song hangs on a tense note at the end, waiting for the gentle roll of cymbals to segue it into the next track.

Say Yes! To Michigan!
If the lakes took the place of the sea
If the cars drove themselves, way to be!
Opposite to the trains moving in
Rivers run insterstate, Michigan!
This song, based on the state-affirming motto that you're likely to see on milk cartons and other products in the Great Lakes State, is one of the loveliest odes to a singer's home turf that I've ever heard. Easing in with rolling piano, the gentle fanfare of a trumpet, and what sounds like a lovely wooden flute, it's easy to get the feeling of gliding across an icy lake while listening to this one, or riding a bicycle through the park on a lazy Sunday afternoon. The leisurely 6/8 rhythm invites the listener to kick back and enjoy Michigan's lighter, prettier side - the side that the tourist board would probably want you to know about. Sufjan definitely seems more content in the countryside, since he signs of longing to return "to the farm's golden arms". It's one small example of the subtle imagery that really brings this state alive in vibrant colors throughout the album. The horns do interesting things as the song progresses, eventually taking over as the rest of the song fades out, once again sliding up and down the scales in a way that seems a bit random, but fits in with the tune of the song if you listen carefully.

The Upper Peninsula
I live in a trailer home with a snowmobile, my car
The window is broken out and the interstate is far...
Laid-back drums, which sound like they're being played with toms instead of drumsticks, introduce this song - it's got a country-meets-lo-fi feel to it as the limp percussion keeps time with the banjo and Sufjan's world-weary voice describes life in what is perhaps a more remote area of the state (and one of the places I've actually been to) - Michigan's northern peninsula. Once again, we get the feeling that this poor guy is struggling just to make it by, and he's been through some emotional hardships recently, including a split from his wife and possibly estrangement from his son. He bumps into her at a K-Mart and perhaps realizes that she works there - indeed, she isn't doing much better at making a living than he seems to be. But the everyday things such as the television news seem to provide some level of comfort to his lonely life, or at least they drown out the noise. Speaking of noise, the ghost of indie rock seems to want to overtake this song, as slivers of electric guitar noise start to spill in near the end of it, getting denser and denser until they are finally silenced by a moody but resolute piano chord. It's quite eerie (but not Erie - that lake doesn't touch the UP).

Tahquamenon Falls
It puzzles me how a piece that is so simple and repetitive could be so beautiful. Here, Sufjan uses a dense chorus of bells and keyboards to mimic the constant pouring of a waterfall, perhaps a place where he was able to find refuge from the harsh realities of life as a child. It's the same steady rhythm for two minutes or so, and yet it's a rich and evocative piece.

Holland
Lose our clothes in summertime
Lose ourselves to lose our minds
In the summer heat, I might...
A smaller city becomes the setting for this stark acoustic ballad, one which evokes bittersweet memories of what sounds like a past relationship. There's little more than an acoustic guitar at the beginning of this, and an occasional bell or metallic object that adds a dull "clunk" every now and then if you're listening carefully. The tune, and the way Sufjan pauses between so many of the lines, even filling in the entire chorus with wordless "ah-ah-ah"s in falsetto, make it sound like a bit of a medieval lament. I actually get a picture in my head while listening to this song - I think of the two lead characters in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind lying on the ice together and looking up at the stars, feeling like their relationship will last forever as they blow off the world's cares. But as the song draws to a close and what sounds like French or English horns jump in to take the medieval feel to the next level, the tone becomes increasingly mournful, and I'm left with the feeling that it didn't last.

Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head! (Rebuild! Restore! Reconsider!)
Once a great place, now a prison
All I can say, all I can do
People mover, bad decision
From suburban, now a prison...
The joyful bells and skipping rhythm of this song can be a bit of a jolt at first when considering the mellow songs that surround it - we've gone back to the big city in grand style. Bouncing along at an extremely odd 9/8 rhythm (with jaunty interludes of 4/4 in between), this song is a dizzying parade of piano, intricate percussion, and all the bells and whistles (literally) that Sufjan had in his arsenal. (Remember, he's playing most if not all of these instruments.) It almost sounds like the soundtrack to some sort of an educational show from the 50's, especially when cheery female voices join in (members of the Danielson Famile, I believe), cheerfully blurting out random phrases that include names of towns, animals, and political issues such as gun control - all random snippets of life in one of America's most busy and crime-infested cities. It's like Sufjan has brought a big crowd with him into the city's gates, and he's going to pound at the door until the bigwigs let him in to voice his concerns about the state that he loves. The song eventually falls into a quiet but monumental cascade of organs and horns at about the six-minute mark, and you can almost picture Detroit's intimidating tall buildings towering over our stalwart political activists. Should they stand their ground, or run for the hills?

Romulus
We saw her once last fall
Our grandpa died in a hospital gown
She didn't seem to care
She smoked in her room and colored her hair...
Back to the hills it is. Though Sufjan hasn't strayed too far - it's just another trip back in time, to a town where he spent an important part of his childhood. I actually got this song confused with "Holland" at first (and yes, there are actually towns called "Holland" and "Romulus" in Michigan) due to its similar rhythm and the prominence of acoustic guitar, but the mood evoked here is one of summer heat rather than a cold winter's night. Sufjan describes his memories of a fractured family here (maybe his own or maybe some fictional character's), specifically noting the tensions between his rather flaky mother and a more caring and attentive grandfather, who may have had a bit of a dispute over custody of the kids. Sufjan can't seem to figure out how he feels about mother dearest - he remembers times that she would come to visit and not wanting to let her go, but then these memories are scarred by recollections of being abandoned for yet another far-away boyfriend, and by her uncaring reaction to grandfather's eventual death. The song just kind of lays the events out there and doesn't analyze them too much except for little observations like when grandpa bought the kids a VCR - "We watched it all night; we grew up in spite of it." Somehow, despite a less-than-functional upbringing, these kids managed to survive. More and more I'm getting the feeling that managing to survive is a major theme on this album.

Alanson, Crooked River
Another bell-and-chime piece shows up here, this one differing from "Tahquamenon Falls" in how it doesn't follow a tight rhythm, but instead the notes ring freely and fluidly, like the calmness of the river mentioned in the song's title. It's possible that glasses partially filled with water are being tapped to make some of these sounds - however it's being done, it's definitely a transfixing effect.

Sleeping Bear, Sault Sainte Marie
Oh, Lamb of God!
Tell us Your perfect design
And give us the rod...
This short piece seems to be both an ode to one of Michigan's major gateways to Canada, and to a native legend about a sleeping bear. I can't make much sense of it, but it's a lovely piece, with short verses enveloping the listener in waves. The initial burst of sound that brings on the first verse sounds like it's got bagpipes or something in the background, and later the instruments dwindle down to a lone banjo before disappearing into the night completely, leaving only the sound of crickets.

They Also Mourn Who Do Not Wear Black (For the Homeless in Muskegon)
Save yourself from recognition
Selfless and quiet song
To better get along...
Okay, these song titles are starting to get insanely long. The last of what I call the "big city songs" shows up here - there's definitely a similar feel to "All Good Naysayers" and "Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head!" The former is particularly easy to confuse with this song, though repeated listens have revealed "Muskegon" to be a denser, faster-paced piece, keeping the catchy 5/4 rhythm but peppering it with short bursts of either organ or keyboard that sound like morse code being transmitted in time with that rhythm. It's kind of like the music you might hear at the beginning of an evening news broadcast. Lyrically, I can't make heads or tails of this one, other than what I can infer from the title - there's a lot going on musically, there are a lot of wordless background vocals to confuse things, and I don't have a lyric sheet handy. But the music is some of the most accomplished on the record due to how it manages to keep my attention as it sustains the same rhythm and tempo for over six minutes. The song has its phases of rising and falling, which help to keep it from getting monotonous. But it's definitely a strange musical feel for a song about homeless people and mourning.

Oh God, Where Are You Now? (In Pickeral Lake? Pigeon? Marquette? Mackinaw?)
The Devil is hard on my face again
The world is a hundred to one again...
OK, that's the longest song title, I promise. Fittingly, it goes with the longest song. Unfortunately, it may be the album's weakest, as it extends a barely-there rhythm over nine-minutes that are mostly comprised of a melancholy chorus of "La la la"s. Sufjan actually sounds a lot like Joseph Arthur here - his voice sounds a little more dry and low-pitched until he goes back into falsetto for the chorus. The song starts out in folk territory as Sufjan practically whispers his modern-day song, simply asking where God can be found, and somehow knowing that turning over every rock in the state isn't going to uncover the Almighty. It's the sound of a man at his wit's end, and yet the song's long outro seems to move from there into a sort of quiet understanding that God is still there. It almost becomes a Sigur Rós song, since the horns take over, carried only by the gentle rolling of cymbals as the song draws to a close. It's as if Sufjan has cast himself away into the fog on one of Michigan's lakes, never to return.

Redford (For Yia Yia & Pappou)
One of the simplest pieces on the record is perhaps one of its most emotional. With little more than an unsure, stuttering piano that repeats each chord five or six times as it gently plays through a series of four of them, and the almost intangible wash of soothing voices echoing underneath, this wordless tune plays like a loving funeral send-off, and a glimpse into the unknown which only the dead may see. Apparently it's kind of an ode to Sufjan's grandparents, and I can see it being a flattering one.

Vito's Ordination Song
I've made a crown for you
Put it in your room
When the bridegroom comes
There will be noise, there will be glad
And a perfect bed...
At long last, after the chorus of woes and gentle protests that has made up the rest of this album, the final song comes along, and it seemingly puts all of those concerns to rest. If the last two tracks evoked death, and a sense of mourning, this one seems to evoke rebirth. It's a piano-based song which once again gets overpowered by horns towards the end - perhaps that trick has been used one too many times on this record. The organ that opens it actually reminds me once again of Sigur Rós, but then there's an appropriately churchy feel to it. It's almost as if all of our fictional characters have joined together to wish one of them well in his new life as a preacher - this transformation gives them hope that they too will find meaning and new life that makes the struggle for existence a little easier to deal with. The theme of survival and helping you fellow man comes across in the repeating chorus (which unfortunately repeats for over half the song - if you get bored, just entertain yourself by substituting in some lyrics from Coldplay's song "Everything's Not Lost", since the two songs have a similar feel) - "To what I did and said, rest in my arms, sleep in my bed. There's a design." These are the words of a man waging war against poverty one person at a time, simply by opening up his home and his heart to those less fortunate.

It takes a few listens to really get a handle on this overwhelming scrapbook of stories, but after three or four spins, it's hard to see this as anything other than a raggedly beautiful album. I can only imagine what sorts of memories it might evoke - positive or negative - to other people who grew up in these places. But I don't think the luxury of shared experience is necessary to connect with this album. You just have to love eclectic music - probably the folksier side of it, to be specific. And you have to come in expecting to be caught off-guard at unexpected moments.

I can't wait to accompany Sufjan to the next State that he plans on describing in song. So have fun digesting this one; I'll be quietly putting on my seatbelt and promising just to look out the window at all of the passing scenery on our way to the next destination, and not whine about whether we're there yet.

Even if our next stop is New Jersey.

ALBUM WORTH:
Flint (For the Unemployed and Underpaid) $1
All Good Naysayers, Speak Up! Or Forever Hold Your Peace $2
For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti $1.50
Say Yes! To Michigan! $2
The Upper Peninsula $1.50
Tahquamenon Falls $1.50
Holland $2
Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head! (Rebuild, Restore, Reconsider!) $2
Romulus $1.50
Alanson, Crooked River $1.50
Sleeping Bear, Sault Sainte Marie $1
They Also Mourn Who Do Not Wear Black (For the Homeless in Muskegon) $2
Oh God, Where Are You Now? (In Pickeral Lake? Piegon? Marquette? Mackinaw?) $.50
Redford (For Yia Yia & Pappou) $1.50
Vito's Ordination Song $1
TOTAL: $22.50

CONCLUSION: Am I allowed to say "masterpiece", or will that just push this review over the edge into ridiculous amounts of overhype?

Website: http://www.sufjan.com

Recommended: Yes

Great Music to Play While: Listening