stars review in daily cal reveals album is for sex
Stars at The Fillmore
“San Francisco,” declared Stars lead singer Torquil Campbell, “must be a wonderful city in which to be horribly, horribly depressed.” Between acid and champagne, the members of Stars were already well on their way to melancholy bliss. Campbell, Amy Millan, and Co. enfolded the audience into their own memory-laced musical half-dreamland, in which even ex-lovers get a kiss on the cheek. While drawing most heavily on material from their newest release (and their self-proclaimed “sex record”), Set Yourself on Fire, the band bathed the audience in a fog of sweet sadness drawn from the whole of their catalogue, the quiet resignation of “Heart” balanced by the spastic exuberance of “What I’m Trying to Say.” By the time the band closed with “Tonight,” a beautiful stomach-punch of a breakup song, heartbreak seemed imminent. But heartbreak, as this band and its audience knew, makes music.
-Ariel Toft
“San Francisco,” declared Stars lead singer Torquil Campbell, “must be a wonderful city in which to be horribly, horribly depressed.” Between acid and champagne, the members of Stars were already well on their way to melancholy bliss. Campbell, Amy Millan, and Co. enfolded the audience into their own memory-laced musical half-dreamland, in which even ex-lovers get a kiss on the cheek. While drawing most heavily on material from their newest release (and their self-proclaimed “sex record”), Set Yourself on Fire, the band bathed the audience in a fog of sweet sadness drawn from the whole of their catalogue, the quiet resignation of “Heart” balanced by the spastic exuberance of “What I’m Trying to Say.” By the time the band closed with “Tonight,” a beautiful stomach-punch of a breakup song, heartbreak seemed imminent. But heartbreak, as this band and its audience knew, makes music.
-Ariel Toft