Critics who hail a CD as “a musical journey” say it figuratively. The opposite can be said of Sufjan Stevens’ latest album, The BQE, in which he interprets the stretch of highway connecting southern Brooklyn with Grand Central Park in Queens. You could say Stevens assumes the role of traffic director guiding listeners on a journey through his latest work.
Unlike the change drivers toss into the chipped metal baskets at the tolls when entering the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, Stevens charges a minimal fine: the abandonment of musical preconceptions before embarking on the The BQE. Like the abruptness of a turn onto an interstate, the album begins with two minutes and 56 seconds of gradual grating. “Prelude on the Esplanade” will strike listeners as a melodic interpretation of the wheels of thousands of cars humming over metal while airplanes roar overhead. The end of the song builds in intensity mimicking the characteristic drone of a large semi barreling through a bridge.
Most commuters criticize the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway as the epitome of urbanization. Stevens attempts to deconstruct this fragmented assemblage of road, rendering its interpretation an expressive perspective. Like the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, Stevens’ album lacks coherence. This artistic choice articulates Stevens’ desire to capture the true spirit of the Expressway.
Song transitions provide a road map to understand The BQE. The Expressway bears witness to daily human mobility, and the transitions found on The BQE similarly drive the album forward. Some song transitions mirror the stark stop and start of rush-hour traffic such as between “Movement III: Linear Tableau with Intersecting Surprise” and “Movement IV: Traffic Shock.”
Subtle string-plucking and woodwinds in conversation characterize the airy melody of “Movement III,” while “Movement IV” interprets the combination of classical elements with the intriguing electronic influence of synthesized percussion hits. Other transitions, such as between “Movement IV” and “Movement V: Self-Organizing Emergent Patterns,” blend seamlessly into the characteristic stream of conscious attained after many monotonous miles on the interstate.
Night driving can be hypnotic with the brilliance of headlights surrounded by the dark atmosphere. “Interlude I: Dream Sequence in Subi Circumnavigation” succeeds in depicting this complex emotion best articulated by Death Cab For Cutie’s “A Movie Script Ending”: “Passing through unconscious states/ When I awoke, I was on the highway.” “Interlude I” layers humming voices and represents one of the many examples on the record where Stevens captures the emotional essence of the road.
Addressing the variance in human movement, Stevens’ album follows the day of a commuter driving the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. The strong snare in “Movement VI: Isorhythmic Nights Dances with Interchanges” prompts listeners to imagine regimented lines of cars marching back to the suburbs after work, guided by the tacit commands of the yellow and white lines. The final song, “Postlude: Critical Mass,” is composed only of piano, a relaxing conclusion as the listener experiences the relief of a driver after exiting the mechanical chaos of the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.
For individuals who normally associate classical music with background noise for peaceful hours spent studying, The BQE will jar your gears. With its mix of synthesizer dial tones and the flowing woodwind lines that meld into exclamations of jazz, Stevens’ renegade style — with purposeful contradictory elements — inspires listeners to drive beyond their musical comfort zone and appreciate his original interpretation of The BQE.
3 1/2 out of 5 stars.
