Sufjan Stevens live

Sufjan Stevens
Riviera, Chicago
Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Things have gotten serious for Sufjan Stevens. When Illinois was just a twinkle in his eye, he brought his so-called “Militia” to Schubas on the Seven Swans tour; Schubas holds approximately 200 people. After Illinois came out, he played a sold-out Metro. Tuesday he packed the Riv — the fullest capacity audience I’ve seen there in a long time.

But that’s not the only thing that has gotten serious for Stevens. The overriding feeling from Tuesday night’s performance was how sickly involved his arrangements have become. Illinois, the recorded album, is nothing to scoff at. When you join the company of Rodgers and Hammerstein, your four-track days are long gone. But it’s also a celebration. Aside from a humorous, predatory bird anecdote and being decked out in winged costumes, Stevens and his 15-piece ensemble felt particularly joyless at the Riviera.

Not that any show ruing the deaths of young men in “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” won’t have a heavy heart, but the somberness weighed down the first three quarters before lifting spirits near the end with “Casimir Pulaski Day,” “Jacksonville,” and “Chicago.” An important piece of the concert actually derived from Stevens’ album immediately prior to Illinois, Seven Swans. Two of the tracks pulled from it for Tuesday might appear out-of-place given the spectacle of more than a dozen costumed people armed with an array of orchestra instruments, but the mark they left was undeniable. First was “The Transfiguration,” which banks on Biblical prophecies of the coming of Christ, and later “All The Trees Of The Field Will Clap Their Hands,” which spells out plans to devote a life, presumably, to God.

Stevens’ faith, like Pedro The Lion mastermind David Bazan’s, is central to him, and back at Schubas it felt like touching revelations — a coming out of sorts in an increasingly cynical society. But in front of the throngs at the Riv, the words and arrangement somehow seemed distant. And that’s where the show was undermined. Somewhere in the whirlwind of punctuated brass, tinkling piano, arcane geological references, goofy wardrobes, film montages, and sparkling harmonies Stevens and crew failed to make a connection. The band rarely moved and thus the crowd couldn’t move with them.

— Steve Forstneger

Category: Live Reviews, Weekly