Each track on Javelin starts intimately: the trickle of an acoustic guitar, the patter of a lidded piano, and the cascade of a coruscant arpeggio. And then, of course, there is that disarming voice, the throughline in one of the most eclectic catalogs of any songwriter this century—soft but strong, as if the very scenes of hurt and hope it is about to share have only galvanized it through the decades. Javelin pairs musical sweep with emotional breadth, an entire lifetime of feeling woven into 42-minutes. On Javelin, Sufjan, as you may know him best, returns: offering gorgeous if pained glimpses of himself, so that we may see ourselves more fully.