Pitchfork

Photos by Leó Stefánsson. Text by Atli Bollason.

Image-google Sufjan Stevens, and you won't find a single result where the man is smiling. His gaze is usually set on some far-away point, his eyes dreamy, his thoughts, presumably, not dwelling in the past but constantly set on the future-- possibly on that point in time when he completes the last of his fifty state albums?

Pair that careful posturing with his prolific output and tremendous skill, and Stevens has already achieved something of a mythical status among his fans. When playing Reykjavík's downtown Fríkirkja (Independent Church) this past weekend, as with his recent U.S. tour, Sufjan further contributed to that image (or was he mocking it?) by donning an enormous pair of wings-- spanning nearly two meters-- and some sort of huge, tribal mask.

Reykjavík was the group's last stop on their tour through Europe in support of The Avalanche. Curiously, Sufjan and friends played not a single song from that album (excepting shades of the various versions of "Chicago"), instead opting for tracks from Michigan, Seven Swans, and Illinois, along with one new song.

Sufjan's sole female bandmember Annie Clark began the concert under the moniker St. Vincent. Using only her voice, an electric guitar, an array of effects, and a kick drum, St. Vincent appeared to impress the audience with her low-key, jazzy, avant-pop. Moving between time signatures, scatting jazz solos, and strumming dissonant chords made for a very unusual but enchanting listening experience. She waltzed over to her piano to perform a song she teasingly introduced as "Marry me, Sufjan Stevens"-- its real title is likely something along the lines of "Marry me, John", considering the lyrics. Clark's voice is amazing-- both Cat Power and Billie Holiday came to mind-- and I was left wondering whether Sufjan's concert could be such a revelation.

In spite of Stevens' austere singer-songwriter image, he and his band's performance was very noisy at times and quite upbeat overall-- not as melancholy as it's often described. This became clear from the very start, Stevens' brass band launching into a frenzied cacophony, Sufjan abusing the center-stage grand piano, and the guitarists strumming as fast as they could. This "conjuction of drones" wound up one of the concert's main motifs, with many of the songs ending in this way, opting for dissonant noise instead of a satisfying resolution-- essentially my only qualm with Sufjan's concert, which was entirely gratifying in every other way.

Among the night's highlights: "Detroit", which the band revamped considerably, adding an impressive 5/4 saxophone solo that brought necessary improvisation to an otherwise very strictly arranged set. Also stunning: the full-band, ten-person assault suddenly evaporating into Sufjan's voice backed by a lone piano-- a trick often repeated, always effectively.

Sufjan's new song was typical of the man's oeuvre, but the melodies were more obscure, and perhaps more likely to impress his critics. "Chicago" came last, the arrangement a mixture of the original and the "Multiple Personality Disorder" version from The Avalanche.

The crowd went wild, etc., and Stevens came back for a relaxed encore, including "The Dress Looks Nice on You". Despite the imminent release of Songs for Christmas, the presence of an inflated Santa Claus, and the venue (a hundred-year-old church), Stevens refrained from busting out any Yuletide jams. And after an enthralling, dynamic, ninety-minute set, he and the band probably felt quite blithe as they skipped on over to the Sugarcubes reunion concert which had just begun in a nearby stadium.