вЂњAngels,вЂќ like many of these short tracks, offers a moment of wordless reprise between longer tracks-the beautiful вЂњAlanson, Crooked RiverвЂќ and вЂњTahquamenon FallsвЂќ from Michigan serve a similar purpose. вЂњAngels We Have Heard On High,вЂќ for example, offers a fresh take on a tired Christmas standard, its pulsating brightness convincingly evoking its celestial subjects. ThatвЂ™s a shame, because many of them are miniature masterpieces. StevensвЂ™ mid-2000s albums are bursting with interludes, postludes, trifles, and bagatelles, and these are the tracks that often get squeezed out of the repertory via playlists, shuffle mode, and best-of articles. All thatвЂ™s missing is the banjo.ДЄ 46-second, all-bells rendition of a Christmas carol may seem like an odd choice in this context-and thatвЂ™s sort of the point.

For all of its eccentricities, The Age of Adz is still a Sufjan Stevens album, and вЂњToo MuchвЂќ really is a quintessentially Sufjan Stevens song. People change, but people stay the same too. Listen close, though, and you will hear in вЂњToo MuchвЂќ many of the trademarks of StevensвЂ™ style, in particular the earnest, aspirational lyrics (вЂњIf I was a different man, if I had blood in my eyes / I could have read of your heart, I could have read of your mindвЂќ), boppy choruses, and ecstatic cacophony that epitomize StevensвЂ™ more upbeat tracks. The album, StevensвЂ™ вЂњgoing electricвЂќ moment, was largely well-received, but some listeners lamented the shift in style.ДЄnd who could blame them? The electronic bleeps and bloops that populate The Age of Adz do occasionally feel out of place, and itвЂ™s hard to watch Stevens perform вЂњToo MuchвЂќ on Jimmy FallonвЂ™s show without thinking that he was experimenting with something that never quite clicked. So it really should not have come as a surprise when The Age of Adz failed to replicate the sound of StevensвЂ™ previous work. But musicians are people, and people are notoriously inconsistent. More songs like this: вЂњCome On! Feel the Illinoise!,вЂќ вЂњChicago,вЂќ and вЂњJacksonvilleвЂќ from Illinois вЂњThey Also Mourn Who Do Not Wear Black (For the Homeless in Muskegon)вЂќ from MichiganДЇairly or not, we often demand consistency from the artists we love. And the best part? For listeners, StevensвЂ™ maximalist taste means that his music is eternally renewable-you will never run out of new details to discover. That is to say: the вЂњlessвЂќ of minimalism (a relatively economical set of musical materials, repeated many times over) is ultimately made to serve the broader maximalist aesthetic, as in the opening of вЂњOh Detroit.вЂќ Plus, all of that looping and repetition builds tension, which is more often than not released in a climactic moment, as in the songвЂ™s wonderfully cacophonous zenith (4:18). Should we throw a chorus in there too (2:36)? Sure, why not! For Stevens, more is more. Before weвЂ™ve even reached the thirty second mark, a densely textured groove has been established, bursting with energy, color, and rhythmic vitality. They soon fade into the background, however, as more percussion joins in, then piano and brass, then the drums, and finally an ensemble of oboes (yes, oboes!). The track begins inconspicuously enough, with bells playing a short and simple repeated pattern. Take, for example, вЂњOh Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head! (Rebuild! Restore! Reconsider!)вЂќ from 2003вЂ™s Michigan. While it may be minimalist in musico-technical terms, the overarching aesthetic of much of StevensвЂ™ music could only be described as maximalist. Sufjan StevensвЂ™ music, with its frequent deployment of repetitive melodic and rhythmic loops, has often been compared to the minimalist music of composers such as Terry Riley, Steve Reich, and Phillip Glass. The Song: вЂњOh Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head! (Rebuild! Restore! Reconsider!)вЂќ

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