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#SufjanWeek: I’ll do anything for you

#SufjanWeek: I’ll do anything for you

“I’ll do anything for you, I’ll do anything for you
“I did everything for you, I did everything for you.”

The first Sufjan song I ever heard was “For The Widows In Paradise, For The Fatherless In Ypsilanti,” back in 2003 or 2004. I remember being utterly arrested by it. Curiously, at the time I was going through a phase where I could love an author, artist or musician without trying to discover any of their other material. I can’t fathom the thought now — whenever I find someone I’m enamoured with, I tend to want to own their entire oeuvre. But there was something quite lovely about truly appreciating something on its own.

Because of that, I listened to “For The Widows…” over and over. I didn’t think about trying to find that perfection elsewhere. Sufjan, to me, has a curious, beautifully evocative voice. My reaction to his songs tend to be pretty visceral – I either love them, or leave them. There are songs that can knock me out, and I tend to know immediately which ones those are (though a few have snuck up on me. I’m looking at you, “The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us!”).

I wish I could put it in less cliché terms than this, but: Sufjan almost transcends music. He gets under my skin and makes me realise both how uncomfortable and deeply soothing that is. There’s a lot of music that I enjoy in my head — by which I mean, through listening to it and enjoying or appreciating an aspect of it (especially lyrics). There’s music I enjoy to sing along to in the car on the way home. But a select few artists seem to escape any box you could possibly stuff them in. They can’t be contained — because you don’t listen with your head. You listen with your heart.

Sufjan has always spoken to my heart. I’m a poet, so when I pause to truly consider his words, I find him both utterly perplexing and profoundly inspiring.

I used to think I couldn’t really call myself a Sufjan scholar because there are songs of his I don’t like, there are things I don’t understand. But I’ve come to realise it doesn’t matter a whit. I adore the man. I love the way his brain works, the way his voice sounds, what he does with music. Even when he releases albums that flummox me, I know I’ll find something in there to admire.

I liked the All Delighted People EP a hell of a lot. I was more ambivalent about The Age of Adz — although that ended up providing us with the utter genius that was the WNYC Soundcheck session in 2011 (God, those versions of “Futile Devices” and “Pleasure Principle”).

But Carrie & Lowell is like coming home. Listening to it is heartbreaking at times. I was unprepared for “Death With Dignity”. It had me reeling. Sufjan’s grief is so tangible in this record. But listening to it is also like curling up next to a loved one on a quiet night and sharing silence. That’s how it destroys you.

“But I don’t know where to begin again I’ve lost my strength completely— oh, be near me.”

Laala Kashef Alghata is a poet and journalist. She’s currently working on increasing dialogue on women’s rights in the Middle East in collaboration with UN Women. She’s also an avid reader, amatuer photographer and a lover of music.

#SufjanWeek

We’re talking about Sufjan Stevens all week in celebration of his new record Carrie & Lowell out on March 31. Follow our posts and share your favorite Sufjan song with us for a chance to win a copy of the album in vinyl or CD.

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