Life Blogs With Noor

 Cover Image by: Adam Kissick

 It was early in January of 2017, and I had just signed up for a vinyl subscription that would send 3 records to me every month. I assumed this meant I’d simply receive a box filled with records, give them a listen, maybe like one or two, and move on with my life. Little did I know that one particular record would genuinely change my life.

     When it was shipped, the first subscription box had attached to it a letter that detailed the contents of the box and why each record was picked. At the end of this card it read: “I noticed you’re into Sufjan Stevens, so sending you his beautiful album Carrie & Lowell.”

     What’s funny is I hadn’t even realized that I was listening to him until I’d read that. There had been a playlist I’d found recently which had songs from Marika Hackman and Alt-J in it (two of my favorite artists) which just so happened to also have some Sufjan songs. I remember saving a song titled The Only Thing, thinking it was one of the most beautiful and serene pieces of music I’d ever heard. But that was the basically the end of that. I’d never looked further into the artist or his music, let alone listened to the complete album the song came from. I’d just saved the song and moved on. After an especially long day however, coming home to three new records was basically heaven. So, I grabbed Carrie and Lowell — as the album cover intrigued me and I remembered liking The Only Thing — and I put it on.

     One sound that will forever enrapture me is the gravely noises given off during the beginnings of reading a vinyl. The sound played, I immediately relaxed, and I layed on my back in my bed, forced my eyes to close and my body to relax. Just me and the music, nothing else. 

     Death with Dignity started to play, although of course I had no idea that was its title at the time. The light guitars, the occasional piano, the sound of — I had no idea what instrument it was — but something that seemed to travel around my body and swim circles in my brain. Sufjan’s almost whispering voice. I was lost. In the music, in his lyrics, in my brain, in an album that I had no idea was about. The only way I could describe the sounds would be: full. Some songs made my heart swell; others, my throat constrict and eyes squeeze, more and more, till I felt as though if anyone were to walk into my room, they would’ve thought I was in immense pain.

     In a way, I was. Although I always come off as happy-go-lucky and quirky, I had (and still have) a bad habit of shutting off my all of my emotions, even while alone, only to burst at the worst of times. I’m still not sure if I do this on purpose, or if it is just my nature to not feel. But this album, this album made me feel. In an such an intense way that I was almost scared of it. Was I being dramatic? Maybe. Had all of my contained emotions simply decided to burst at that moment? Also maybe. But all I knew that something was happening — emotions were happening — regardless.

     I remained solitary in my bed until the first side finished. Got up, flipped the record, placed the needle back on and slumped face down on my bed this time. I don’t know how many times I’d listened to that album that night; getting up from my unmoving position only to flip the record and lay back down again. It was almost as if I was in a trance, but rather than not being aware of what I was doing, was exceptionally conscious of it.

    Later that night, I saved the album in Spotify, and for the next few months only listened to other music to ensure I wouldn’t become sick of the album by my sheer repetition of it.

    I of course went down the wormhole that we all do upon first discovering something you know you’re going to obsess over for a while. Google, Youtube, Spotify, Genius, everything that I could find out about this astonishing artist and his music, I made sure I’d read. I felt as though this album had become a small part of myself, a musical version of my feelings.  I would play it during the best of times, making sure to associate the songs with the happiness I was feeling; but also during worst of times, to make me feel something other than whatever negative emotion was surely pumping through my veins.  

     I generally recommend artists I love to anyone and everyone, but Sufjan felt like a secret I wanted to keep to myself. My little island of happiness that I couldn’t tell anyone about, unless I knew I could handle whoever it was listening to something that I found so much value in. I wouldn’t hate someone for not liking his music, but for some reason I felt as if anyone didn’t like it, they in turn didn’t like a small part of me. Now this was indeed ridiculous, and I got over the mentality as quickly as I could. Soon I was recommending Sufjan to everyone, wishing for him to blow up and flourish like Ed Sheeran or Rhianna or something.  

    I guess this all goes to show the power that music can have, and how something small can have a large impact on a person (a Butterfly Effect if you will). One of my favorite experiences in life is having something special to me be brought up somewhere outside of my general ‘circle’ of life. This happened with Sufjan. In a cafe nearly 5 hours away from where I live, late on a Friday night. My mom and I had driven to this town to volunteer for an event, and were in desperate need for some tea. We drove by one of the cutest cafes I’ve ever seen, and knew we had found our place. While there, there was a live saxophone player who played alongside songs coming from a speaker. After maybe 5 songs (that were all wonderful), I heard the beginnings of The Only Thing. For a second I thought I was hallucinating. I mean, it was late and I was pretty tired. Or maybe my phone had accidentally started to play my music; it wouldn’t have been the first time that’d happened.   

    But none of those were true. The song was undoubtedly coming from the speakers, with the saxophone player following alongside Sufjan’s voice. Right away I turned to my mom, bounced excitedly in my chair, and quite literally squealed with excitement. Sufjan, my Sufjan that I had been listening to for so many months, was playing in a place that I had never been to in my entire life, and which we were only in by pure chance. The saxophone player ended up going through the entire album, and the the people occupying the table next to us — upon hearing my squeals — ended up asking me about the music and who Sufjan was. It felt like something straight out of a movie or cheesy book. I couldn’t believe it.

    After this, mere weeks passed before Sufjan released two new songs — Mystery of Love and Visions of Gideon (and the remix of an old song: Futile Devices) — for the soundtrack of an amazing movie named Call Me By Your Name (based off of an equally amazing book). Call Me By Your Name would become another example of art that has changed my perspective on the world, but I hadn’t known that just yet. I was so ecstatic that Sufjan come out with new music and immediately listened to the songs. Again this was before knowing anything about what the story was centered around.  I felt a spark of happiness over the songs and the fact that they were so unabashedly Sufjan, so perfect. 

     After reading the book however, I found myself in tears upon re-listening to the songs in context. And I don’t think my eyes were anywhere near dry while those same songs played throughout the movie. They were a perfect encapsulation of the feelings of the characters, the story-line, the setting, and in turn the (most likely very emotional) audience.

     For someone who isn’t necessarily superstitious or spiritual in any way, the fact that these two pieces of art just happened to be interconnected felt a hell of a lot like something I was meant to discover by fate. There was no way that this was a coincidence. Finding that playlist so long ago was far more than simply finding a new favorite song to save. It was the destined discovery of something that I was sure to love.

     So, to anyone who enjoys quieter-indie-type music mixed with splashes of nearly every genre out there, I highly recommend checking Sufjan Stevens out. I personally love the album Carrie & Lowell, but every one of his albums brings with it a unique style and story. Some are more folky, some what I could only describe as EDM, others the melodic indie that I personally love. Each of which I feel as though nearly everyone could love and be moved by in one way or another.

     Music has always been a huge part of my life and identity, and the shifts in what music I listen to can be seen as reflections of where I stand in life in that moment (ex: pre-teen angst = One Direction… that luckily didn’t last too long). The accidental discovery of Sufjan was nothing short of destiny, and I’m so glad that I ended up clicking on that playlist on that fateful day in January.