Impossible Glow: Sufjan Stevens at Coachella

Coachella is ostensibly one of the most popular and profitable music festivals in the world—so much so that they livestreamed the entire weekend. Consequently, it seemed almost inevitable that one would see on stage singer-songwriter Sufjan Stevens in a gaudily-patterned jumpsuit and a pair of feathery angel wings. The nearly hour-long set he performed the evening of April 15 was stocked with your typical festival fare, including airdancers, laser light guns, and balloons. But this performance wasn’t just glamour. First of all, this was a revival. And second of all, for the past year, Stevens has been performing show after show of songs about death. This performance was a way to dial back that mourning and to push forward toward ecstatic living.

The wings he wore? They’re the same pair that he donned back in 2011 on a world tour for “Age of Adz,” an experimental electronic pop album about heartbreak and illness. The banjo he smashed on stage? That was an echo of similar acts of 2011-era banjotastic violence. It’s the symbol of a jagged transition toward more chaotic sonic territory. In his performance, Stevens certainly did move on from the soft-edged “Carrie & Lowell,” a shimmering collection of tracks that commemorate his mother’s life and death. From the trio choreography of sinuous dance moves during the joyous yet fatalistic “Too Much” to the soft iterations of the eponymous lyric from “I Want To Be Well,” Stevens seemed intent on delivering an experience that was both old and new, both electric and intimate. Even though the choreography was at times half-hearted and the audience strangely quiet, Stevens was undoubtedly having fun, bantering in between songs and grinning wildly, despite his widespread reputation for being entirely too sad to listen to sometimes, with such favored tracks as “Casimir Pulaski Day” or “To Be Alone With You.”

The most Coachella aspect of the performance was Stevens’ chaotic, ebullient, absolutely nuts performance of the 25-minute epic track “Impossible Soul.” If you’ve never listened to the song before, it’s helpful to divide it into sections. Stevens’ outfits changed with each new movement, from a sleeveless disco ball-patterned onesie and glittery cap to a shimmering tinsel-fringed get-up with a postmodern hula hoop halo to the enormous balloon robe that was a staple of his 2011 tour. As he danced about the stage, singing of how things aren’t so impossible when you work together, the crowd at Coachella must have been possessed with a certain feeling of abundance. Does it makes sense that a man who has been lauded for writing such tender ballads about an absent mother could also gallivant across stage in metallic splendor? Stevens says yes. The sentiment of possibility, like many of Stevens’ ideas, can seem at times quaint and naive; his own self-deprecatory comments during the show made clear his awareness of such criticism. But this performance was what Coachella honestly needed, more than any spectacle or sound: a testament to wonder and growth.

—Staff writer Bridget R. Irvine can be reached at bridget.irvine@thecrimson.com.