Stars' Bright Night at the Belcourt
By Bill Melville
In the span of Star’s show at the Belcourt Theatre Tuesday, a decade of bad relationship moments dragged through my mind.
Through their sophisticated yet tender pop delivery, the Montreal sextet still earned exuberant applause.
Maybe it was the band's character and songcraft. Or maybe it was because Stars members threw flowers decorating the stage at the audience throughout a show with few thorny spots.
Yet another offshoot of the music collective Broken Social Scene – it seems as if Canadian law requires membership for all resident indie rockers – Stars showed how polished music can emerge such eclecticism.
Singers Torquin Campbell and Amy Millan balanced their voices delicately against each other, with their four bandmates falling in lockstep behind them.
With the pair trading off lead vocals and dueting regularly, the music stayed loose during intricate arrangements. The songs had room to breathe – the band seemed less concerned with notes filling every empty space than on their
albums. There were still plenty of songs that buried the keyboards in guitar-driven cacophony, most notably “Bitches in Tokyo,” everyone's favorite title in the band discography.
Opener Martin Royle and his affable backing band, Pash, worked off a different canvas. Royle shocked the audience out of “ignore the opener” mode with the haunting “If Time Ran Backwards.” His poetic lyricism saved songs like “Sex with Your Ex” from the cheap jokes they could have become in other
hands.
Then Stars jumped in with “The Night Starts Here,” a smoldering synth ballad propelled by Millan’s sex-tinged voice.
Alternately mellow and intense, there were few low moments, but definite standouts - the Millan showcase “Window Bird;” the raucous “Take Me to the Riot;” and “Your Ex-Lover is Dead,” an essential indie rock tune about bumping into an old flame.
Stars ignored some lesser tunes from their latest release, In Our Bedroom After the War, and mixed in the best tracks from the highly-acclaimed Set Yourself on Fire, tightening up their setlist in the process.
They earned points for timely banter, reminding the crowd about the movie playing next door, plus a brief Phil Collins rip from Campbell and Millan’s declaration that everyone was an extra in a film called “Sex Zombies.”
The main set didn’t close so much as climax with “In Our Bedroom After the War."
Following the industry-standard short delay, the band sprang back with a worthy encore held high by “I’m Trying to Say” and “Calendar Girl” from Set Yourself on Fire.
Although the band departed too rapidly for a group so theatrical – I picture the members clasping hands and taking a wide bow as the house lights glowed to life – their stamp on the night was undeniable.
Stars shined a lamp on black love and splintered romance, and the Belcourt crowd was better for the illumination.
