Sufjan Stevens

It’s an album of healing — listeners tread through ripples of grief and acceptance alongside Stevens and come to recognize the ups and downs of life in their own ways.

On its newest record First Two Pages of Frankenstein, The National writes a reflective narrative, using songs as snapshots through a journey of suffering with anxiety and depression.

These five albums, all released in 2021, offer listeners a beacon of light and hope in hard, vulnerable times — if not, at least a little fun.

There is something touchingly universal about Stevens’ and Augustine’s lyricism as well as their resolute commitment to piecing elements of their own most beloved films, creating artistry carefully steeped in the desire to reconcile our humanity.

After the 49-track debacle of “Convocations” rolled out in April and May, it’s tempting to accept anything from Stevens with lyrics and a hummable melody.

Chock-full of what can best be described as jarring and erratic whale sounds, this record will leave listeners feeling disoriented and bored. 

Stevens has excelled in the past with a variety of different, sometimes abrasive, sounds. And yet, on The Ascension, that purpose is never made clear.

Both “America” and “My Rajneesh” feel very much like the culmination of Stevens’ niche artistry.

Be it about one’s ability to love oneself or another or both, the EP acts as a form of normalization through open interpretation.

I revisit my adolescent angst in the dramatic throes of Linkin Park’s “Numb,” and I cringe at my compulsory desire for heterosexuality when I hear the Jonas Brothers sing “When You Look Me in the Eyes.”