Hope you got your tickets to Sufjan's North American tour this fall already! Tix are still available at most venues. (Seattle kids, I'll see you there!)
I'm not even going to wait for the tour to actually start or see him before the blogosphere is being flooded by show reviews and critiques, so instead I present:
-----Generic Sufjan Stevens Concert Form Letter-----
Well folks, I just got back from seeing Sufjan at [concert location] for the [# of times] time. It was amazing.
He told lots of wonderful stories; they were all so heartfelt and funny. He is really a nice person. I was sitting in the [nosebleed row #] so I couldn't really hear what he was saying, but hey, he's Sufjan, so I clapped and laughed and yelled like a wild [gender] whenever he would deliver the [punch line/deep thought ending].
He played [list every song even though we all know he plays the exact same thing every show] and they were wonderful, but I was kind of disappointed when he didn't play [obscure Sufjan song that I played over and over for 31 hours straight after my [boy/girl] friend dumped me].
He was talking to the audience as if they were all close friends of hiss, and even though I was in [nosebleed row #] and Sufjan was about the size of an ant, I felt like he was staring right at me. He said something like "I'm a really good banjo player" and everyone started laughing but I don't know what he was talking about.
Then, he turned and faced the audience, and everyone suddenly became very quiet, because we all knew we were about to experience the vaguely sexual/religious poetic insight known as For The Widows In Paradise, For The Fatherless In Ypsilanti. Sufjan sang the words with [pain/ecstasy/hurt/strength/pity] and I heard people all around me weeping openly.
Just as the audience was at the height of awkwardness and dead-silence-uncomfortableness, some [guy/girl] in the balcony stood up and yelled WE LOVE YOU SUFJAN!!/GO MICHIGAN!!/PLAY CHICAGO!!]
Sufjan continued the rest of the show, wonderful as ever, and finally came back for [one/two] encores, which were [we all know, they're the same every time but I’ll tell you anyway].
My friends and I rushed backstage; knocking over several smaller fans as we made our way to the exit that Sufjan would leave via. There was already a crowd of unattractive girls there, waiting around for his arrival. Then Sufjan's bodyguard walked out. He told us that Sufjan wouldn't be able to sign any autographs because [he's tired/he's in a bad mood/he's sick].
We all stood around anyway, and when Sufjan came out we all tried to rush him. The bodyguard pushed us all back, and we were all shouting, "We love you Sufjan!" He looked at us, made a gesture with his shoulders that said, "I'm sorry, they are making me leave, I can't help it!"
Feeling really desperate, I jumped through the line clutching my [poem/song/drawing/love letter/obsessive-fan-stalking-threatening note-written-with-letter-clippings-from-magazines-describing exactly-what-I want-to-do-to-Sufjan] and threw it at his. He caught it, swore he would look at it as soon as he could, and I nearly exploded with happiness.
As his tour bus pulled away, I stood the with 50 other girls who shared one thing: We didn't need men to make us happy, we didn't have to be attractive to feel confident, and we knew listening to Sufjan's music 24 hours a day would eventually help us overcome our individual traumas.
-----End of Generic Sufjan Stevens Concert Form Letter-----