If there’s ever been an album for everybody, it’s Sisyphus’ self-titled masterpiece. On the surface, it comes off as a fun times record, which it definitely is. Upon further scrutiny, however, the nuances reveal the brilliance of its craftsmen — and such was the aim, Sufjan Stevens explains in an interview with Pitchfork. “Geti kept saying what happens when the jams come on Spotify at the frat party? Are they singing at the hook, is the bass thumping, are the girls grinding? Lowest-case scenario. I mean, seriously, this is far from frat party music, it’s still heady as shit, but that was our objective, to trust our impulse and make it fun, for whatever it’s worth.” They talk about death, love, sex, fear, loneliness, society and so on. You can dance to it because the beats are ridiculous, but you can also learn from it if you take the time to listen. I’ll say it again: Sisyphus is an album for everybody.
Sisyphus (formerly s / s / s) are three ridiculously talented buddies: Serengeti, Son Lux and Sufjan Stevens. Serengeti provides the majority of lyrics which are more than often than not beat poetry; they’re loosely connected phrases that fall to the table like pieces of a puzzle. Sufjan remains the master of ever-evocative melodies and heart-string poetry. Those who are claiming that Sisyphus is a collaboration that shouldn’t work have overlooked Son Lux who flings his sticky cinematic gloss and far-reaching production skills over the entire thing. He’s the glue. It works. There are tracks that have more of one than the other, but a lot of it is dominated by industrial hip hop vibes spattered with moments of pop breaks and total Sufjan signatures. Okay, it’s a bit bro-like at times, but probably because it was recorded in the span of three weeks with all three dudes and massive amounts of red wine locked inside a cigarette smoke-filled studio.
“Calm it Down”, the first track on the album, starts off as a total goofball anthem and ends in a beautifully stripped confession, serving as the perfect example of Sisyphus’ two-edgedness. “Take Me” is basically the remix of an old Sufjan demo that resurfaced a few months back (now we know why), and the fade-ins to each phrase are seriously mesmerizing. The track finds Sufjan begging someone to be his “friend,” and he uses phrases like “Will you kiss me on the lips?/Will you fill my lunar eclipse?” I had to sit down. Then, wham! “Booty Call” is up next, and we’re laughing out loud while also saying, “Wait, what?” It’s about the obvious, and ends with one of my favorite lines ever: “Imma kiss you like a bubble in the brooks,” with a reprise of the melody from “Take Me”. It’s at this point that we realize the two songs were connected and Sufjan just had a sweeter way of making a booty call. Which song appeals to you the most literally says what kind of sexy you prefer.
Son Lux shows off his intense production skills with “Rhythm of Devotion”, a track also once again displaying two very different ways of saying the same thing. Serengeti professes his extreme devotion by repeatedly yelling, “I don’t give no shit!” as Sufjan croons, “This is how I wanna love you/With an open heart and an open hand/I don’t care if you feel ugly/I’ve got an open heart and an open hand.” “Flying Ace” is Serengeti’s first real display of his disjointed, deadpan style and lyrical prowess, while “I Won’t be Afraid” is a gorgeous new Sufjan classic that could easily have been pulled from Age of Adz. Then there’s the song about bank robbers, “Lion’s Share”, featuring the line “Dance dance/Put the booty in your pants/Run run/We can all get some.” Calm it down.
Sisyphus again bridges two songs together with the Serengeti’s powerfully-versed “Dishes in the Sink” and Sufjan’s equally moving “Hardly Hanging On” towards the conclusion of the record, the latter ending in a 30 second long siren as if to let the lyrics entirely dissolve into our skin. The album’s final track, “Alcohol”, is also thought-provoking and cerebral as they’ve just displayed the full on grittiness of life in the two priorsongs and are now following those thoughts with a song about society’s tendency to numb the difficult instead of dealing. The end of “Alcohol” closes the record with a densely-layered mass then an abrupt rainbow-colored TV screen tone — a fittingly cinematic The End.
Ambitious and massive, Sisyphus works on so many levels that it transcends all of them. More than being an album everybody can enjoy, it’s an album that (I think) everybody needs to hear. It’s truth served up raw — beautiful in both its aesthetic and carnage as well as brilliant in its ability to communicate a message through addictive, tongue-in-cheek, all-out jams. Collaboration at its very finest – Sisyphus killed it.