It may very well be his most challenging and ambitious undertaking to date as well as a sign of the new era of Stevens to come.
Though some might find the odd track a bit noodly, I was rendered wonderfully weightless by a journey that delivered whole galaxies of nuance in a universal context.
The richness and depth of the album calls for repeated and careful listening. Sufjan Stevens is a master of sound who makes its creative manipulation appear so easy.
A joyous blend of dumb fun and sonic smarts with the talent that Stevens has been peddling for nearly 20 years to glue them together, this feels a fresh start in a career that didn’t exactly need one. Somehow, a wonderful surprise. Wow.
The Ascension is one of Sufjan Stevens’ grandest, most ambitious works yet, and that’s quite the feat considering he’s one of the most ambitious musicians in his genre.
The Ascension sees him lay down new paths while very much corroborating his special, loved status.
On this album he is sharing a more obscure, richly detailed approach which does an awful lot with a small, focused collection of sounds
The Ascension demonstrates a great deal of growth, expansion, and experimentation in Sufjan Stevens’ work. Not only is it one of his best album–if not his best–it is clearly a contender for Album Of The Year.
The Ascension harks back to the heavy electronics of 2010’s Age of Adz but with adroit focus on the themes of existential dread and the quest for meaning with a bounty of angry yet hopeful songs that satisfy melodically and metaphysically.
The Ascension ranks with Carrie & Lowell as his most personal and affecting work to date.
A sonic sibling to 2010’s electro-pop Age of Adz and a direct follow-up to 2015’s autobiographical, folk-orchestral Carrie and Lowell, The Ascension looks outward.
There’s a stunning candour to the lyrics, though it gets a little stodgy in the mid-section and, at 80+ minutes, is a little more verbiage than the typical album. Yet we’re dealing with an untypical songwriter, and the last two tracks are among the best he’s ever written.
These are grand themes and, throughout, the record cosmically fuses together the epic and intimate.
The Ascension’s maximalist reckoning finds his horror at national affairs mirroring his own inner turbulence.
The Ascension is almost too anxious to bear, but always draws you into its gravitational pull. In short, it’s a 2020 album about self-healing and the wounds that are still fresh.
A bloated and often beautiful portrait of political and emotional anxiety that longs for nothing more than to break away from the systems that brought us to this current moment.
Both lyrically and musically, The Ascension appears to be driven by feeling rather than intense intellectualism. Here Stevens’ lyrics are suggestive, initiating a slow-burn response from the listener rather than the immediate dagger-to-the-heart specificity of Carrie & Lowell.
Certainly The Ascension is by no means perfect. Yet, Sufjan Stevens has created a work that deserves to heard. The more one listens, the more once begins to appreciate the density of this work and its ability to transform expectations.
There are undoubtedly some breathtaking songs on The Ascension, but its weaker moments instill a nagging feeling that the 80-minute album tends to overstay its welcome.
Ultimately, it’s those ethereal effects that color this album and give it its feel overall. You might find yourself scratching your head repeatedly, but in the end, you’ll feel like you’ve been strangely seduced.
While Stevens often reaches great heights on The Ascension, he almost as often seems to get lost in his big ideas.
Both beguiling and frustrating, The Ascension is complex, bold and oddly lovable.
Though generally not lacking in beauty or scale, The Ascension has a handful of somewhat grating moments that make it harder to love as a holistic experience.
The various depressive quips throughout Ascension feel more like self-parody than self-affirmation. On the upside, there is plenty of instrumental variety, though the lack of focus seems more the result of meandering at-home synth exploration than innovation.
#1 | / | The New York Times: Jon Pareles |
#6 | / | NBHAP |
#8 | / | The Independent |
#9 | / | Piccadilly Records |
#11 | / | MondoSonoro |
#13 | / | Gaffa (Denmark) |
#15 | / | No Ripcord |
#16 | / | Northern Transmissions |
#17 | / | Gaffa (Sweden) |
#17 | / | Slant Magazine |