Album Anniversaries: 15 Years of Feeling the ‘Illinois(e)’ with Sufjan Stevens

The stumbling ode to Midwestern rapport remains as impressive and chaotic as ever, echoing timely themes of American liberation and political unrest.

In Album Anniversaries, writers honor their favorite aging albums and their subsequent legacies, revealing which projects have stood the test of time.

Written by Zoe Judilla
Images courtesy of Asthmatic Kitty Records

In the 15 years since the release of Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois, America has woken up. 

The second and final installment of Stevens’ ambitious 50 States Project celebrated the picturesque trappings of the American spirit: glorified presidents, working class heroes, spontaneous road trips, local parades, UFO conspiracies – the project was even released on the Fourth of July. 

But as slyly as Stevens hailed such icons that bled red, white, and blue, Illinois divulged into a double-sided exploration of hypocrisy. With the citing of despondent Bible studies, brutal colonialism of Native Americans, and corruption of inner-city politics, Stevens rejects his country as much as he reveres it – sometimes in the same breath. Amidst the increasingly polarized sociopolitical climate, the question remains: who is celebrating America now?

Following the success of 2003’s Michigan, Stevens announced his rather implausible plans to reflect the spirit of the country by producing an album for each state. Although he now acknowledges the project as a promotional gimmick instead of a premeditated series, its final record was done with sincerity. In an interview with Dust Magazine, Stevens clarified why Illinois was his next choice after his birth state: “I feel like specifically Illinois and Chicago are sort of the center of gravity for the American Midwest.”

The sweeping Illinois (stylized on the album cover as Come On Feel the Illinoise) remains a stunning musical feat. Hailed as Stevens’ most technically grandiose work to date, it was named the best-reviewed album of 2005 by Metacritic and was included on a variety of “Best of the Decade” lists, from NPR to Rolling Stone. The 74-minute epic is an eccentric celebration of life through its parallels of significant monuments and moments in Illinois history.

Andy Battaglia of A.V. Club put it best in his 2005 review of the album, noting Stevens’ off-kilter triumph was “cheery enough for chambers of commerce, but tender and strange enough for those who find libraries erotic.”

For a project so rooted in history, Stevens trades classic instrumentals for brash theatrics, making for an ostentatious production. Every song on Illinois was written, recorded, engineered, and produced by Stevens, featuring the talents of his lovingly-dubbed “Illinoisemakers” choir and other key instrumentalists. 

Stevens uses an incredible arsenal to pack the project with varied and decisive technical execution. His personal credits alone include a variety of pianos and guitars, recorders, oboes, Wurlitzers, vibraphones, accordions, glockenspiels, among many other instruments. The album also spans a handful of genres, from folk to baroque to contemporary classical to jazz — in “Come On! Feel the Illinoise!,” Stevens swiftly switches time signatures within the same song, just to show off. The result is a rousing symphony for an overlooked territory, an epic love letter to the Midwest.

As for the album’s lyricism, its inherent braininess is a result of Stevens’ dedication to the state. After sifting through a variety of history books, immigration records, and literature by local greats Saul Bellow and Carl Sandburg, Stevens visited a variety of locations throughout Illinois, conversing with locals and asking about their experiences in the vast Midwest. Consequently, the release of Illinois has inspired many fans to use Stevens’ tracklist as a stilted travelogue, paying tribute to the countless monuments highlighted throughout the album. In “They Are Night Zombies!! They Are Neighbors!! They Have Come Back from the Dead!! Ahhhh!!” alone, Stevens name-drops 16 ghost towns within the state.

But in spite of the achingly specific references, Illinois isn’t so much about the state as it is a general commentary about the throes of Americana culture. Tracks like “Chicago” make for an ode to road tripping, or rather, the freedom of coming and going, while “To the Workers of the Rock River Valley Region…” references the harsh working conditions and corrupt city politics of Rockford. “The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts” refers to the godliness of Superman, whose fictional hometown was modeled after Chicago, and “The Black Hawk War, or, How to Demolish an Entire Civilization and Still Feel Good About Yourself in the Morning…” denounces colonialism.

While Stevens teeters from realism to romanticism, he chooses to focus most on the individual stories that make Illinois seem rather intimate: the young man discovering his sexuality at summer camp who “can tell you, (he) loves him each day,” the sick girl running outside “with (her) shirt tucked in and (her) shoes untied,” the Black man running who’s “got a better life coming.” But between these snapshots, Stevens recognizes there’s nothing more American than the disillusionment of freedom.

Between his extensive thematic coverage and thrilling instrumentation, it’s a wonder that Stevens is known best for his lyrical minimalism. Standout track “Casimir Pulaski Day” is a more personal reflection of the death of a childhood friend due to bone cancer on the state-wide holiday. Stevens grapples with resentment towards his religion as he grieves, musing, “Tuesday night at the Bible study / We lift our hands and pray over your body / But nothing ever happens.” While religious themes are prevalent in Stevens’ music, he uses the track to highlight the complacency many Christians in America succumb to.

Similarly, the haunting “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” details snapshots of the infamous Chicago-based serial killer who sexually abused and murdered over 33 young men. Stevens recounts how “He put a cloth on their lips / Quiet hands, quiet kiss on the mouth” and “Dressed up like a clown for them / With his face paint white and red.” At the song’s close, Stevens looks inward: “And in my best behavior / I am really just like him.” During a 2009 interview with Paste Magazine, Stevens stated that the song was “a remark about potential more than anything else. We’re all capable of what he did.”

Illinois is essentially an expansive tale centered on that sense of American capability. At its best, the incessant smashing of keyboards and the benevolent blaring of trumpets coalesce into something entirely victorious, so much so that one may forget the mundanity of Stevens’ Midwestern subject. But when Stevens urges the listener to feel the Illinois(e), he is encouraging nothing less than pure liberation. Whether it’s for oneself or for “the land” – a scenery that, 15 years from the album’s initial Fourth of July release date, is wrought with total discord and division – the listener must decide how to channel that uninhibited energy, spreading a message of unrest from Illinois to beyond.