10 years ago, on his 28th birthday, Sufjan Stevens released what was one of his most personal, emotional, and important albums. An ambitious and constantly intriguing collection of 15 songs with real autobiographical and political undertones.
Michigan was the beginning of his audacious (and ultimately short-lived) ‘50 State Project’, and encompassed a wide range of topics surrounding places, stories, and opinions of his home state, but its true brilliance lies in an inherent ability to connect with the listener, despite a possible lack of knowledge of the area and backstories.
The album addresses a wide range of issues, including unemployment, homelessness, and absent parents, topics that are still as relevant today, a decade later, as they were when it was released.
Michigan was the first moment in Stevens career when his now signature combination of indie-pop and folk stylings backed by occasional orchestral arrangements, came together and formed a coherent whole, and would become the driving force, and foundation behind, the rest of his career as well as the many other artists he inspired.
Having released two albums prior to Michigan – A Sun Came in 2000, and Enjoy Your Rabbit the following year – it was his third album that was his first real leap as a creative artist, an album entirely composed of memories and nostalgia for his home state, as well as despair at its current condition.
Released on his own Asthmatic Kitty record label, was the album that first made Stevens a house-hold name amongst independent music, helped in part by being rated by Pitchfork as the third best album of 2003. Michigan was the first moment in Stevens career when his now signature combination of indie-pop and folk stylings backed by occasional orchestral arrangements, came together.
In an interview with the website, the Detroit-born singer-songwriter stated that “Michigan is based on memory, so it’s more introverted and melancholy…that’s what a whole lot of [it] is about, this kind of internal and emotional tension between living and being in a place, and then leaving it and looking back, and having a different kind of experience with the memories of that place.”
From the moment when Stevens’ voice falters while singing “Even if I die alone” on album-opener ‘Flint (For The Unemployed And Underpaid)’ it’s apparent that this is going to be a very, very special album, an emotional journey that immediately draws you in.
‘Flint’ is the first of many songs to touch on the subject of unemployment and a loss of hope, a melancholic theme that pervades the album, and sends a strong message to the listener.
Michigan, and specifically Stevens’ hometown of Detroit, suffered greatly from deindustrialization and the decline of the automotive industry in America, and this issue is raised on multiple occasions.
Flint, a city 66 miles from Detroit, was the birthplace of General Motors, but following the company’s down-scaling and deindustrialization, it accrued over $30 million in debt by 2002.
In Sufjan’s ‘Flint’, the song’s narrator details the guilt felt about not having job, about pretending to ‘try’ and ‘cry’. The backstory behind it makes the line “Since the first of June / Lost my job / And lost my room” even more sorrowful, but as with the whole album, it’s not necessary in order for the song to have a true emotional impact.
Throughout its some 66 minutes, Stevens depicts the personal, individual impact of economic hardship and widespread unemployment, and this is perhaps even more important and relevant in the desperate economic climate of today.
The narrator on ‘The Upper Peninsula’ now lives in a “trailer home” and has lost his family as a result of unemployment and alcoholism, seeing his wife at a K-Mart; they now “live apart.” “Michigan is based on memory, so it’s more introverted and melancholy.” – Sufjan Stevens
Similarly to the town of Flint, the Upper Peninsula has been desecrated by high levels of unemployment and growing issues with alcoholism, and the final, intimately personal lines of “I lost my mind / I lost my life / I lost my job / I lost my wife” conveys the brutally harsh realities of these lower-class struggles, and in taking on a personally narration, making a highly important statement and impact on the listener.
Stevens is at his most political when despairing at the current state of his home city on ‘Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head!’, a near eight-and-a-half minute epic where he describes the town as “Once a great place, now a prison”, making a strong comment on the urbanization and commercialization of the Motor City and Western society as a whole.
The sprawling and intriguing amalgamation of genres is one of the most upbeat moments, but also lyrically one of the darkest and includes repetitive choruses sung in unison and an eclectic instrumental breakdown.
This statement is carried over on ‘All Good Naysayers, Speak Up! Or Forever Hold Your Peace’, where Stevens laments that “All we praise is all we want in commerce / All we praise is parties, foreign commerce”, while also describing his hopes for improvement and working together for something worthwhile.
The marching band-type feelings evoked by the song complement the ultimately uplifting message, with lines such as “Forget loss and perfect advocation / If it drops or stays in convocation” becoming engrained in your head.
Stevens utilizes genuine, honest characters, telling their heart-achingly real stories in order to make a strong political message, and in doing so, makes a real emotional connection with the audience. But for the everyday listener, much of the song’s storytelling qualities don’t have to be about the economic woes of a town near Detroit, but could be about general hopelessness, guilt, and putting on a brave face.
It’s this universal accessibility where Sufjan Stevens’ true brilliance lies; you don’t need to have a knowledge of deindustrialization in the state of Michigan or the decline of the automotive industry, Stevens tells these stories in such a way that there is always an emotional connection to the characters and issues that are raised.
This is further seen on ‘For The Widows In Paradise, For The Fatherless In Ypsilanti’, a song with a very specific backstory, but one that can be applied to innumerable situations, as evidenced by it’s use in many popular TV shows and movies (who hasn’t shed a tear to that funeral scene in The OC?).
Stevens describes the song as detailing how he attended a football game in the town of Paradise and noticed a lot of mothers and children, but no husbands or fathers. “I had sort of devised a story in my mind that they had all died in the war, and that they were all widows,” says the artist, as can be seen in the line “Even if I come back / Even if I die”, while it could also be interpreted as a religious revelry.
As with everything that he has released, there are religious undertones throughout Michigan, but something that Stevens does so well, where so many others fail, is ensuring that these messages and ideals are never obtrusive or distracting; as a listener, you never feel that you’re being preached at.
In contrast to this, much of this Christian symbolism adds to the overall meanings of songs such as ‘Oh Go Where Are You Now?’ and ‘Vito’s Ordination Song’, but it always remains subtle, and can be completely ignored (if need be). “I don’t think music media is the real forum for theological discussions…”
When questioned on the extent that religion plays a part in his music, Stevens stated that: “I don’t think music media is the real forum for theological discussions…I just feel like it’s not my work or my place to be making claims and statements.”
It’s always difficult to ascertain just how autobiographical a Sufjan Stevens number is, but Michigan is undoubtedly an extremely personal and emotional album for him. As stated in numerous interviews, the songs are largely based on his own memories and experiences, with ‘Holland’ detailing his time spend studying creative writing at Hope College in the town of the same name.
The eccentric singer stating it concerned “the summer it got so hot we put a fan in each window…we huddled under the towels, we told stories about our fathers, about our first kiss…we took our time talking things out; we listened carefully, with a serious look.”
Then there’s ‘Romulus’; perhaps the most personal, emotional, and biographical song that Sufjan Stevens has ever written. Backed by restrained, quiet acoustic guitar and melodic, sparse banjo, Stevens’ intimate and ethereal voice seems on the verge of faltering with each line, but somehow remains steady and strong.
The song details the impact of an absent mother on her son, who now lives with his grandparents. In the space of four minutes and forty-two seconds, we see the narrator grow up before us, going from being “ashamed” of himself when seeing the mother, to being “ashamed of her” after “she didn’t seem to care” following the death of his grandfather.
In an interview with The Sunday Times, Stevens describes his mother’s mental health problems, and how she “kind of took off”, leaving him and his five siblings under the care of his father and grandparents. Adding they were “always on the brink of domestic and financial disaster”, and that he “always thought that everything was about to fall apart.”
Ultimately though, it doesn’t matter: the song’s overarching message and appeal remains the same, and with the vulnerable vocals, brutally honest subject matter, and soothing background, every single element conspires to make it as beautiful and heart-breaking as possible.
Many see 2005’s Illinois as the defining moment of Sufjan Stevens’ career, but it’s a peak that never would have been scaled if not for the the experiments and success of Michigan.
The orchestral arrangements and eccentric songwriting that would flourish on Illinois appear briefly, most notably in the breakdown on ‘Detroit’, but for the most part, it is a sparse, acoustic ode to his home state where his voice is placed front and centre. While Illinois is expansive and eclectic, it’s younger brother is humble and honest, and filled with melancholy and nostalgia. Then there’s ‘Romulus’; perhaps the most personal, emotional, and biographical song that Sufjan Stevens has ever written…
Stevens released Seven Swans in between these two masterpieces, which continued much in the same vein as the quiet and restrained Michigan but drew more heavily on religious themes. For Illinois, Stevens read and researched everything he could, unlike Michigan where Stevenes just remembered everything he could, and used his own emotions and opinions.
In his own words, “it was really all memory and recollection…the whole record was rendered by my imagination and my perspective on events and circumstances I knew growing up.” This was Stevens’ experimenting with conceptual songwriting and elaborate storytelling, while still remaining grounded in folk articulations and personal emotions; following extensive positive reactions and it’s undoubted success, he fully embraced it, leading to the masterpiece that is Illinois.
Michigan is one of the most important and influential albums of the last decade and has had a meaningful impact on an innumerable number of independent artists. Its diverse and ranging genres has had a wide-reaching effect, and it was at the leading forefront of the revitalization and re-emergence of ‘indie folk’.
Its elaborate and orchestral arrangements, as well as conceptual approaches to writing and creating an album, can clearly be seen in one of the biggest ‘indie’ bands of our time: Arcade Fire.
Stevens’ seamless merging of indie-pop-like vocals and folk stylings clearly had an influence on the likes of The Antlers, Iron & Wine, and The Polyphonic Spree, and it could be argued that his efforts to bring folk back into mainstream popularity contributed to the recent overwhelming successes of Mumford & Sons, The Lumineers, and Of Monsters And Men.
Further to this, the success of Michigan also turned the spotlight onto Stevens’ own record label, Asthmatic Kitty, and in turn raised the profile of other bands on the roster, such as My Brightest Diamond, DM Stith, and The Welcome Wagon.
Sufjan Stevens intricately designed and crafted this infinitely enjoyable album that has only improved with age over the last decade. As he states in the final lines of Michigan, “There is a design / To what I did and said.”
