Stars + Apostle of Hustle

Before going into the show, I was warned that Stars are sweet. They are pretty. I would like them. Numerous comparisons to My Bloody Valentine and the Smiths were made. The crowd at the Casbah was not the hipster group that normally fills the club. Blame it on the Kings of Convenience show across town, or maybe the Stars just don’t appeal to San Diego’s indie rock community. From what I heard though, Stars seems to have been the better choice that evening. Apostle of Hustle, the side project of Broken Social Scene’s Andrew Whiteman, opened the show with a loungy set, one that largely overshadowed Stars’ more moody performance. A subtle Latin flavor hid playfully behind Whiteman’s energetic sound. These tones were supplemented with horns and keyboards, kindly played by several of Stars’ members. Apostle of Hustle was also joined on stage by Ilse Gudino, a visual artist and flamenco dancer, who besides playing a bevy of percussion devices such as the cowbell, castanets, and beads, used dance as an instrument. Rhythmic flamenco dancing added a stunning visual of hips and arms, as each step echoed through the Casbah. Superficial Tilly and the Wall comparisons could be made, but Gudino’s dancing does not replace the drums. Rather, it adds a throatier, more mature sound, a deeper level to the already percussion rich music. With the addition of horns, Apostle of Hustle easily fell in line with the current large ensemble trend, one that seems to be making way all over the place. Stars, on the other hand, seem to be following a Canadian trend, that of hatred for George W. Bush. Stars have proclaimed themselves the leader of a musical Soft Revolution and have thus turned their sights on American politics. The liner notes to their album Heart define their revolution as trying to “kill the bastards in life with love.” A soft revolution usually refers to a quiet revolt without slogans and propaganda. Perhaps Stars’s earlier releases, filled with love songs, fulfill this definition. But the Casbah set, mostly songs from their latest release, Set Yourself On Fire, was chock full of catchy slogans. Lead Singer, Torquil Campbell, spit edgy comments at the crowd between each pop-laden song. The crowd didn’t seem to mind the slight departure from earlier work; they cheered loudly when Campbell shouted, “When there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.” The Dharmic call to action was voiced over and over throughout the show. It seems this soft revolution needs slogans. The more Campbell spoke, the more the show felt like a page out of the Hipster’s Guide to Social Change. At one point Campbell glanced in the mirror wall alongside the stage and spoke of a personal existential crisis, being an aging, short, balding man. Maybe it is aging that incited the overwhelming feeling of subversion throughout the set. Or maybe it is just the contrast to the more laid back presentation of Apostle. Either way, Stars left me wanting for the sweetness I was promised. The music was still pretty. Campbell’s melodic voice contrasts well with Amy Milan’s breathiness. But that overall sweetness was supplanted by an angst-ridden performance. Perhaps that will change when America elects a Democrat for president, and the rest of the world starts liking the good ol’ U.S. of A. again. Or perhaps as Campbell continues to age he will continue to lose his softness and feel the need to be more active in his revolt.