more from
Asthmatic Kitty Records

Silver & Gold

by Sufjan Stevens

supported by
bubblehood
bubblehood thumbnail
bubblehood I would buy this track just for Christmas unicorn, which is only the greatest Christmas song in the entire world. The rest of the album is great because of the wide selection of Sufjan's styles, ranging from full on electrosuf, all the way to good ole' folk. Favorite track: Christmas Unicorn.
Phil South
Phil South thumbnail
Phil South Glorious. I love Sufjan's christmas music. I hope there's going to be more some day.
alaina distaulo
alaina distaulo thumbnail
alaina distaulo i love this record & i need this record. the arrangements lift my heart while i try to figure out by what magical way of mystery has this music flown out of a human being? do i hear what i hear? Favorite track: Do You Hear What I Hear?.
more... more...
/
  • Digital Album
    Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Includes full 58-track album download, as well as a PDF of liner notes.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $10 USD  or more

    You own this

     

  • Buy CD (In stock!)

1.
02:26
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
01:18
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
(free) 01:49
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
01:36
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
02:27
45.
46.
47.
48.
49.
50.
51.
52.
53.
54.
55.
56.
57.
Silver and gold, silver and gold Everyone wishes for it How do you measure its worth? Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth. Oh I’m getting old. Oh I’m getting old. Everyone wishes for youth. How have I wasted my life? Trusting the pleasure it gives here on earth. Silver and gold, silver and gold Everyone wishes for it How do you measure its worth? Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth. Oh I’m getting old. Oh I’m getting old. Everyone wishes for youth. How have I wasted my life? Trusting the pleasure it gives here on earth.
58.
(free) 12:28
I’m a Christmas unicorn In a uniform made of gold With a billy goat beard And a sorceror’s shield And mistletoe on my nose Oh I’m a Christian holiday I’m a symbol of original sin I’ve a pagan tree and magical wreath And a bowtie on my chin Oh I’m a pagan heresy I’m a tragic-al Catholic shrine I’m a little bit shy with a lazy eye And a penchant for sublime Oh I’m a mystical apostasy I’m a horse with a fantasy twist Though I play all night with my magical kite People say I don’t exist For I make no full apology For the category I reside I’m a mythical mess with a treasury chest I’m a construct of your mind Oh I’m hysterically American I’ve a credit card on my wrist And I have no home nor field to roam I will curse you with my kiss Oh I’m a criminal pathology With a history of medical care I’m frantic shopper and a brave pill popper And they say my kind are rare But I’ve seen others in the uniform Of a unicorn just like me We are legions wide and we chose no sides We are masters of mystique For you’re a Christmas unicorn I have seen you on the beat You may dress in the human uniform, child But I know you’re just like me I’m a Christmas Unicorn! (Find the Christmas Unicorn!) You’re a Christmas Unicorn too!  It’s all right. I love you.

about

Christmas is a drag. Year after year, winter upon winter, we find ourselves “going through the motions of merriment,” possessed by a fervent celestial fever, conquered, squandered, beaten, broken, reduced to that clammy, pre-pubescent spoiled brat kid of our childhood, throwing a fit on Santa’s lap, faced with the hard-candy facts of reality, knowing for certain we will never really get what want for Christmas.

Or in life, for that matter.

This is the true horror-show catharsis of Christmas: the existential emptiness that perseveres in the heart of modern man as he recklessly pursues his search for happiness and comes up empty handed.

And yet, against all odds, we continue to sing our songs of Christmas. If Christmas is the holiday of “worst case scenarios” then its carol has become its most corrupted currency, intoning rhapsody and romance with mistletoe and Marshmallow Fluff, placating the public with indelible melodies propagating a message of peace, love, and venture capitalism.

So what is it about Christmas music that continues to agitate our aging heartstrings? Is it the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen? Or the boundless Potential Energy inherent in this bastard holiday so fitfully exploited, adapted, and confounded with no regard for decency?

Maybe this: Christmas music does justice to a criminal world, marrying sacred and profane, bellowing obtuse prophecies of a Messiah in the very same blustery breath as a candy-coated TV-jingle advertising a string of lights and a slice of fruitcake. Gloria!

Who can save us from the infidels of Christmas commodity? Look no further, tired shopper, for your hero arrives as the diligent songwriter Sufjan Stevens: army of one, banjo in one hand, drum machine in the other, holed up in his room, surrounded by hymnals, oratorios, music charts, sacred harp books, photo-copied Readers Digest Christmas catalogs—all the weaponry of Yuletide incantations—singing his barbaric yawp above the snow-capped rooftops.

His song is love; his song is hope; his song is peace. His song conjures the fruitcake world of his own imagination with steadfast pursuit of the inexplicable bliss of Christmas Promises—“Gloria in excelsis deo”—summoning the company of angels, the helper elves, the shepherds keeping flock, the innkeepers, the coupon-clippers, the marathon runners, the cross-country skiers, the bottom feeders, the grocery store baggers, the bridge and tunnel drivers, the construction workers, the ice cream makers, the toll booth workers, the street sweepers, the single mothers, the custodians, the rich and the poor, the walking dead, the community of saints, the Virgin Mary, the Holy Spirit, the Prince of Persia, and all the invisible hosts of heaven to participate in this absurd cosmic adventure, pursuing holly-jolly songs of hope and redemption with a sacred heart for the love of the holidays, for the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.

credits

released November 13, 2012

license

Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.

tags

about

Sufjan Stevens New York, New York

Sufjan Stevens is a singer-songwriter living in New York City.

contact / help

Contact Sufjan Stevens

Streaming and
Download help

Shipping and returns

Redeem code

Report this album or account