For I am warm, I am calling you close to my table Where I have made us a feast For the year of troubles, they have gone
five things: 1) choral harmonies 2) dry drums and the cymbal swells 3) horns at 2:07 4) 4:49 5) lyrics (see above)
from pitchfork (who while usually very stingy in their reviews, awarded this a 7.8) Meanwhile, "The Child With the Star on His Head" uses the birth of Christ to try to transcend the little things that make up modern human existence, things like "dictionaries," "calendars," "television," "fathers," and "consequences." But those pillars can't really be looked past, and Sufjan knows this. So he stops singing for the final 10 minutes of the quarter-hour track, and instead lets a stream-of-consciousness experimental guitar/synth/who-knows-what solos do the heavy lifting. Somehow, these cracked sounds do the job, rendering a smashed beauty that's almost impossible to translate with words. Here, Sufjan is no longer lost, and it's all too easy to get blissfully disoriented by the cacophony.