Sufjan Stevens and the Myth of the '50 States Project'
- Ben Dale
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
Updated: 13 minutes ago
Sufjan Stevens’ ambitious “50 States Project” produced only Michigan and Illinois before he abandoned the idea, admitting it was more of a joke than a real plan. Despite its incompletion, the myth of the project endures, adding to the fascination surrounding his work. The two albums that do exist remain landmark achievements, inviting listeners to imagine the many states that never came to be. The Mic's Ben Dale reports.
Over 20 years ago, a young Sufjan Stevens set out on an ambitious mission, to write an album for each of the 50 U.S. states. First was Michigan. Then Illinois. Then, a decade later, a record that could be considered the Oregon album, but probably not. Not really. Despite gaining acclaim and a dedicated fan base along the way, the project abruptly ended after two years, leaving 48 unlucky states going unaccounted for.
The idea was simple enough on paper: one album for every state serving as a musical cartography of America. Fans envisioned an obsessive exploration of each state’s history, culture, quirks, and Stevens’ own personal reflections soundtracked to a blend of chamber-pop and indie-folk. Meticulous, and a little absurd, the project promised to map the country in sound one state at a time. What they were met with in subsequent years was the disappointing revelation that Stevens was never actually going to record an album for each of the 50 states. It was nothing more than a joke, a PR gimmick. Yet, even with this knowledge, fans still yearn for the day they’ll get to hear him sing about Vermont over a piano riff in 5/4 time — or finally witness the release of a Carolinas double feature.
In an interview following the release of 2009’s composition The BQE (which could be considered his New York album if I really wanted to clutch at straws), he stated “The whole premise was such a joke […] and I think maybe I took it too seriously”. This confession confirmed what fans had long feared — the project was never intended to be completed. What began as an audacious, ambitious idea had taken on a life of its own, only to be abandoned in favour of much more manageable artistic pursuits. In its own right, The BQE is an extravagant orchestral multimedia exploration of the controversial Brooklyn-Queens Expressway that blended classical compositions and his signature jazz-infected and electronic experimentation. While it lacks the explicit state-focused narrative of Michigan or Illinois, the work demonstrates that his fascination with place and history remains intact.
Even with all this in mind, it’s unfair to be upset with him. After all, Michigan and Illinois are remarkable works in their own right. The albums that do exist are enough to cement Stevens as one of folk music’s most imaginary storytellers, and perhaps the incompleteness is part of the charm. The unmade albums linger in the imagination, letting fans dream of what might have been and, in doing so, keeping the mythology of the project alive.
Michigan (sometimes stylised as Greetings From Michigan: The Great Lake State) was the first album to emerge from this ‘project’. Rather than a straightforward ode to the state, it’s a scrapbook of personal memories, historical triptychs, and regional mythology. Songs like Romulus juxtapose intimate and confessional lyrics about his mother with detailed local references, while tracks such as Flint (For the Unemployed and Underpaid) capture the economic and social realities of Michigan towns with empathy and nuance.
Throughout the album, Stevens’ instrumentation creates a textured, immersive soundscape that feels both specific to the state and universally relatable. Banjos, synths, delicate orchestral flourishes, and even an electric guitar solo on The Upper Peninsular combine to create a rich and unpredictable sonic landscape. Each song feels carefully crafted to evoke a sense of place and history into music that are as emotionally relevant as they are detailed. What makes Michigan so incredible is how Stevens invites listeners to inhabit the place he writes about. It sets the tone for what the 50 States Project promised to be: a unique fusion of biography, history, and imagination, all wrapped in Stevens’ unmistakably idiosyncratic style.
After the release of Michigan, the eagerly anticipated state-focused follow up was looming. Instead, what was delivered was the quiet and contemplative Seven Swans in 2004 that departed from its grand, geographically-minded predecessor. Its minimalist instrumentation and spiritual storytelling demonstrated that Stevens’ artistic trajectory was far less predictable than fans had hoped. However, the pivot only added to the mystique of the 50 States Project. It served as a reminder that Stevens’ creativity did not adhere to expectations, and that the ‘project’ was more so a playful idea than a literal blueprint.
Fortunately, what came next was 2005’s Illinois [or, Come On, Feel The Illinoise!]. Where Michigan had been scrapbook-like, Illinois was epic in scope, sprawling across history, mythology, and pop culture over grand instrumentals. The album wove together stories of the World’s Fair and Superman to create a kaleidoscopic portrait of the state that balanced historical detail with emotional resonance. The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us! is a song that folds queer longing, childhood imagery, and Midwestern natural imagery into something both mystic and painfully intimate. Decatur, or, Round of Applause for Your Stepmother! revisits a trip to Illinois town Decatur and a reconciliation with his step-mother over a plucky, banjo driven instrumental. Elsewhere, The Tallest Man, the Broadest Shoulders… questions the construction of Chicago atop the prairie, transforming civic history into an exciting celebration that asks whether the creation of such a city was worth its costs, while simultaneously marvelling at the grandeur of what emerged.
Within Illinois triumph and tragedy operate side by side, and that’s what makes it so extraordinary. The emotional registers coexist, enriching the album’s portrayal of the state as something alive — a creation of those which inhabit it. If Michigan hinted at what the 50 States Project might accomplish, Illinois delivered the fully realised version. A sweeping, musically intricate chronicle of the state that felt both encyclopaedic and personal.
It was also, ironically, the point at which the project became impossible to continue. After creating something so expansive, replicating it forty-eight more times became absurd. During the Illinois sessions, there was a running joke between his bandmates: “How was he gonna finish this? How old was he gonna be?” It seems as though Stevens himself became increasingly aware of this — the research and emotional excavation was a formula that couldn’t be produced dozens more times. Perhaps that’s why Illinois remains the crown jewel of the mythologised project. It represents the limit case, where Stevens pushed the concept as far as it could ever realistically go.
Ultimately, the 50 States Project was never about completion. It was an idea that allowed Stevens to explore place and identity on a scale big enough to contain imagination and then abandon it when it no longer served him. This doesn’t mean Michigan and Illinois are the beginning of an unfinished checklist, instead they are two landmark records that defined a moment in folk music. Their legacy isn’t diminished by the absence of the other forty-eight albums. If anything, it’s enhanced by it. The project survives now not in his discography, but in the collective imagination of listeners still dreaming of the states that were never translated into music. And who knows — maybe in ten, twenty years time we might get that Montana album we’ve all definitely been hoping for.
Written by Ben Dale
Edited by Ben Dale
Photo courtesy of Sufjan Stevens, Videos courtesy of Sufjan Stevens and ACL (2006)
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