Sufjan Stevens revisits his low-key early style in intimate collection while Ed Sheeran delivers more schmaltz

Sufjan Stevens has released his 10th album, Javelin. Photo by FilmMagic

John Meagher

One of the great American songsmiths of his generation, Sufjan Stevens has had a prolific and hugely eclectic recording career. Unfortunately, the Michigan native is going through a testing time in his private life right now. A couple of weeks ago, the 48-year-old announced that he was suffering from a rare auto-immune condition — Guillain-Barré Syndrome — that has rendered him unable to walk. Full recovery is usually possible, but it can take up to a year. It’s a sombre reminder of the fragility of life.

On a happier note, his new album marks a return to the intimate, low-key songwriting that marked his early years and albums such as 2015’s masterwork, Carrie & Lowell. Javelin, his 10th long-player, is tender and lovely and favours a comparatively minimal approach when it comes to arrangements. Stevens’ oeuvre also includes over-the-top, maximalist flights of fancy, but his most enduring work tends to eschew the bells and whistles.

Will Anybody Ever Love Me? is stark and beautiful, Stevens’ vulnerabilities writ large. A Running Start captures the singer’s lyrical gifts as he sings of “winter pine, the lonely drake… the light beneath the frozen lake.” Javelin (To Have and to Hold) is haunting and exquisite and conveys a great deal under two minutes.

A distinct aural through-line is provided by Stevens’ gently plucked guitalin. It’s a traditional North American instrument from the lute family and sounds quite like a banjo.

There are several guests, including singer Hannah Cohen, multi-instrumentalist Nedelle Torrisi and the National’s Bryce Dessner.

Dessner has had a busy year. Not only have there been two album releases from the National in the space of five months but he and his brother and bandmate Aaron have produced the latest one from Ed Sheeran.

Some of us are allergic to Sheeran’s music, and this seventh album, Autumn Variations, is unlikely to change that. Arriving just months after his big-selling Subtract album — which was produced by Aaron, but not Bryce — it is supposedly inspired by Elgar’s Enigma Variations.​

The songs are largely stripped back and are simple meditations on the singer’s life and times. Plastic Bag is classic Sheeran — a jumble of clichéd lyrics that strive for profundity but sound like something cobbled together from the aphorisms inside fortune cookies.

Take the singer away, and you notice that several of the tracks are beautifully honed. One of them is England. But it’s very hard to listen to the music in isolation when Sheeran is singing lyrics so mawkish and cringe-inducing that even the mandarins at the VisitEngland tourist board might shout in unison: “Enough!”