I was hunched over a table waiting for my turn at a bowling alley when I first heard the name - terribly mispronounced. My friend Allyson wrote the name down on a napkin, which I took home. During this time I was going through a musical obsession with overbearing hardcore metal. Sufjan would be a flower in the midst of death and decay. I downloaded some songs (illegally), took a listen, and shrugged. It was just alright in my mind. I should have known better. I always take a full album better than a few disjointed songs that I have no familiarity with. I shelved the music and was sure that I would never return. But as this was a recommendation from a friend whose opinion I greatly value, I decided to give Sufjan one more try. I bought Greetings From Michigan (for the first time) on iTunes for a bargain, listened front to back, and was floored. I had never heard an album quite like it before, with all its quiet misgivings, bashful rhythms, and gorgeous crescendos. I decided to cut deeper. The next week I purchased Seven Swans (for the first time) and Illinois (for the first time) and my mind was flipped backwards. I couldn't believe how I had missed this whole world of music.
I told everyone - everyone within earshot who would listen - I told them to buy every record this man had. I got excited to tell them, like I had discovered gold that everyone could partake in. When someone knew of him before I got to tell them, it was even more exciting. They were automatically my new favorite person. My friends began to form into a new spectrum in my imagining: those who knew of and liked Sufjan, and those who did not. I immediately decided that if a girl did not at least appreciate his music, she probably wasn't worth my time. This was how much I valued musical taste, and how much I valued Sufjan. He became my musical obsession. Every chance I got I would listen to him. I scoured the internet for B-sides. I salivated at the thought of an album of Illinois B-Sides. New music was coming fast and plentiful, and so it was the Golden Age of Sufjan.
I laid in my bed some nights and prayed that he wouldn't die young. I hoped that he would make music forever, and that every year or two I'd be graced with another masterpiece. I checked his web site every day to see if anything new was coming out for me to anticipate. I bought Asthmatic Kitty memorabilia. I convinced my friends to take me to see him in St. Louis the night before a midterm. That concert was one of my favorite concert experiences period. I got almost no sleep that night, I didn't study, and got a C on my midterm. Who cares. It was worth every hour wasted, and every penny spent. I got a t-shirt at that concert that I still wear. I was introduced to Enjoy Your Rabbit that weekend as well.
After that concert, the Golden Age began a steady decline. I gave my girlfriend to be a copy of Seven Swans (the second time I bought it), a repeat of my giving her a copy of Illinois a year before (the third time I had bought that record). She probably didn't realize it at the time, but giving her the gift of Sufjan meant that I liked her. A subtle test of our compatibility? Maybe. Turns out she didn't like him like I thought she did. Turns out she didn't like me like I thought either. But that's another story entirely.
Soon after the release of the Sufjan Christmas CD package, I realized that Sufjan had little left in his bag of tricks. The brightness and happiness I found in his music slowly began to fade. Then there was next year's Sufjan X-mas Gift Xchange tragedy. After trading songs with an avid fan who made a great piece of music, the newest and latest Sufjan X-mas song faded into oblivion after its new proud owner decided to only share with special invitees, and no one else. Collectively, Sufjan's fandom hung their heads in disappointment. To the victor go the spoils, I suppose. I hold out hope that one day he'll release the song, but something tells me that its included in his will.
Thus ended the Golden Age of Sufjan. Recently, the BQE found its way to CD, but since then nothing has changed. No new music, no more proper albums. Sufjan's musical presence has been reduced to that of collaboration. And why? Because he doesn't feel like it anymore. There are lots of articles that go over why he feels like music isn't his bag anymore. And to some degree, I suppose I understand. He's had a lot of pressure to stand and deliver. I also don't think he does very well with a large audience of people, either. There was an interview that he did with a PBS program called Austin City Limits. He looked like a nervous wreck. I thought, "How the heck is he nervous? Everybody loves him!" But even during the performance he looked as though he wasn't himself. I guess even brilliant musicians get nervous sometimes. He has always seemed like a modest fellow. And I'm sure that if I met him in real life, after all the gush and craziness I would let out, he would probably reassure me that he was just a normal guy with normal problems leading a normal life. That's just the kind of guy he is.
The truth is, I love Sufjan and all that he does. He's does what he loves, and doesn't seemed phased by the outside world. He's reclusive, and shrouded in mystery, yet I always beg to know more about him and his work. I wonder if he will ever reemerge, and if he does, will he be the same? Will he be better because of this long hiatus? Or has he been crafting the best material of his life in secret? Only time will tell. For now, the Sufjan faithful will remain quiet, despondent, and hopeful for another Golden Age of Sufjan.
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