The BQE, Sufjan Stevens's latest and ninth studio album, is a puzzling, yet somewhat spectacular attempt to depart from the indie singer-songwriter superstar's typical sensationally soft folk music.
An instrumental album apparently inspired by the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, The BQE has Stevens ditching the sensitive song lyrics that made high school girls and screenplay writers alike fall in love with him. Instead he chooses to create an eclectic collection of minimalist compositions.
The gamble is good in a sense - the album, while not necessarily what one would expect from an artist who introduced the world to Illinoise and the failed Fifty States Project, is a mixed bag of funky and sweet, an Explosions in the Sky meets Leonard Bernstein kind of deal.
The only problem is that Stevens's usual audience might not love it quite as much as the fictitious director of Fantasia 2012 will.
The album opens with "Prelude On The Esplanade," a haunting, hollowed piece of Dan Deacon-esque genius that does what the album promises to do. "Prelude" sets the listener directly on the entrance ramp of the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, using techno effects and echoers to create an aura of anxiety and pre-entry tension.
Cars speed in front of the listener, egging him or her to take the risk, accelarate and drive. The piece ends abruptly, seguing into a calmer, more regal "Introductory Fanfare for the Hooper Heroes," thus signaling that the listener has made it safely into his or her desired lane.
The BQE's finest piece is "Movement III: Linear Tableau with Intersecting Surprise." Its title might be pretentious, but the track, which is the album's sixth, combines brilliant, classic composing with a modernist melody and energetic rhythm.
"Movement III" might as well be the backdrop to one of Stevens's earlier hits - in fact, the song concludes with what sounds like a dissected version of the famous, Little Miss Sunshine-spectacular "Chicago."
Another fresh offering is "Movement IV," a discoth??que-esque take on the oft-fabulous intrusion of modern machines into classic instrumentation. Computer-generated rhythm overtakes subtle background piano and wind, finally creating its own array of Revenge of the Nerds-type techno.
The album's concluding track, "Postlude: Critical Mass" is a soft come-down from the unstoppable rush of previous songs. The acoustic piano-driven melody sets a sunset picture, marking a return to the stripped-down compositions Stevens sought out to deconstruct. The listener has exited the off-ramp; he or she is heading down a one-way road towards an unnamed destination. Journey over.
There are some awe-inspiring moments in The BQE - the apex of "Movement VII (Finale): The Emperor of Centrifuge," for instance, when triumphal trumpets sing out success, and clashing symbols carry the listener towards the right turn lane. Then, of course, there are times when the listener feels that he or she is dancing with animated hippos in a Walt Disney-drawn Greek palace.
It's hard to say what the mainstream will think of Stevens's new creation - is it a masterpiece? Is it listenable? It will undoubtedly take the typical folk-music listener to new, yet uncharted worlds, for better or for worse. There is no doubt, however, that the zany steps Stevens has taken with this album have cemented him as nothing short of a modern musical genius.
