Sufjan Stevens, a name synonymous with poignant melodies and introspective lyrics, released his new solo album, The Ascension, marking his first solo venture since Carrie and Lowell in 2015. Many remember the release of Carrie and Lowell, particularly the track “Fourth of July,” a deeply moving song that resonates with listeners years after its debut. This “Fourth Of July Song” is not a celebratory anthem, but a stark chronicle of a night Stevens spent at his mother’s bedside as she succumbed to cancer. The emotional rawness and vulnerability of “Fourth of July” cemented its place as one of Stevens’ most impactful works.
Months after Carrie and Lowell was released, a concert in Pittsburgh offered a powerful live rendition of this already potent song. From the upper tiers of a grand orchestra hall, the experience was immersive. The set seamlessly merged “Fourth of July” with “Vesuvius,” creating a dynamic and unsettling performance. During “Vesuvius,” chaotic lights and buzzing instrumentals mimicked a volcanic eruption, culminating in a sudden, stark silence. Then, echoing through the quiet auditorium, came the haunting final lyrics of “Fourth of July”: We’re all gonna die.
This moment was profoundly impactful. The stark reminder of mortality, delivered after a sensory overload, visibly unsettled some audience members. Yet, this unsettling feeling is a hallmark of great art – the ability to leave a lasting impression. Sufjan Stevens consistently achieves this, prompting reflection long after the initial encounter with his music.
Initially, the choice of “Fourth of July” as the title for such a somber song seemed paradoxical. The Fourth of July, for many, evokes images of joyous celebrations, fireworks illuminating the night sky, and gatherings filled with laughter and barbecues. It’s a holiday deeply intertwined with American pride and the celebration of freedom. However, in contemporary times, the juxtaposition of Sufjan’s “fourth of july song” with the typical exuberance of the holiday feels increasingly relevant. Especially in recent years, the celebratory facade can feel thin when considering current global and national challenges. It’s become easier to connect with the song’s sobering refrain:
We’re all gonna die.
This sentiment, while perhaps more palpable now, isn’t necessarily celebratory. The weight of global issues and individual powerlessness can be overwhelming, mirroring the unease felt by those concertgoers years ago. Sometimes, the chaos of the world is mesmerizing, a spectacle we can’t look away from, constantly refreshed by news updates on our phones. Regardless of our immediate emotional response, the soundtrack of “Fourth of July” continues to play in the background of our consciousness. The passage of time only amplifies the importance of confronting this reality, of not shutting our eyes to the flashing lights or plugging our ears to the echoing truth:
We’re all gonna die.
The crucial question then becomes: how do we move forward with this awareness? The answer isn’t to wish for destruction or to ignore the discomfort of reality by drowning it out with superficial celebrations.
A black and white sketch of death with a scythe, labeled "smert smert s kosoy syurpriz" in Cyrillic.
Sufjan Stevens, in his artistry, provides a valuable lesson. He transforms personal pain into music that resonates, inspires, and reminds. The refrain We’re all gonna die, while seemingly nihilistic, can also act as a “spiritual smelling salts,” as Tim Keller describes in his book On Death. Keller explains, “Smelling salts are very disagreeable, but they are also very effective,” further elaborating:
Rather than living in fear of death, we should see death as spiritual smelling salts that will awaken us out of our false belief that we will live forever. When you are at a funeral, especially one for a friend or a loved one, listen to God speaking to you, telling you that everything in life is temporary except for His love. This is reality.
Keller’s words gained profound weight when, shortly after his book’s release, he announced his diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, delivering the news with a similar matter-of-factness, echoing, “This is reality,” or, “We’re all gonna die.” This Fourth of July, this reality might feel particularly stark. Amidst global challenges, a purely cheerful celebration can feel dissonant. However, as Keller’s book and Sufjan’s poignant music suggest, acknowledging our mortality can be liberating. Keller concludes:
When facing death, however, our enemy allows us to see the full scope of our cosmic treason, and what answer do we have then? Only this—that Jesus has taken our punishment and set us free, and there is now no condemnation left for us. Rejoice!
In times when traditional celebrations feel hollow, perhaps the somber reflection offered by a “fourth of july song” like Sufjan Stevens’ is precisely what’s needed. As familiar structures seem to crumble, we are awakened, jolted by reality. Amidst the noise and uncertainty, it becomes crucial to listen for a different song, one that speaks of a deeper truth, a truth of hope and resilience, grounded in faith and a freedom that transcends earthly celebrations.
