Works like Javelin make you think that the old discussion on whether one should "separate the artist from the art" is quite trivial, as it is that link between musician and album what elevates Javelin to the heights of a true masterpiece. Because yeah, it's hard to deny that the beautiful poetry that Stevens has developed and the luscious arrangements and harmonies throughout the whole album are quite an achievement in themselves. Yet, it is only with the context of what's happened in the artist's recent life that we can fully grasp the whole grandiosity of this collection of tracks.

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Not only Stevens has been dealing with an autoimmune disorder that has left him paralyzed and having to relearn how to walk and move, but upon the release of the album, he published a letter stating that Javelin was dedicated to his late male partner who passed away earlier this year. For years there was an ongoing Internet joke on whether his songs were dedicated to God or to a male lover. There were no proofs of Stevens' queerness, but also there were no doubts. And yes, his sexuality shouldn't matter at all, except that it actually does. Because as this is an album about loss, it is also an album about finding the strength to talking out loud things that before, for whatever reasons, were only suggested and coded.

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And not being a stranger to make music about loss and grief, it is immediately noticeable that these songs couldn't be more dissimilar to those on Carrie & Lowell, his album to deal with his mother's death. Opposed to the somberness and crushing devastation of C&L, in Javelin there's an overall sense of transcendence, with a brighter instrumentation and an almost celestial chorus that hint that maybe it was never a discussion on whether he was singing to the divine or the humane, but more on how he was able to find divinity on the kiss and the embrace of his partner.

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Best tracks: Will Anybody Ever Love Me?, So you are Tired, Shit Talk, Goodbye Evergreen, My Red Little Fox.