by Casey Rea
Nice capo, dude.
Hey cool kids!
A little background info:
stellastarr* have been around for a few years now. I'm familiar with their first record, which had an Anglo art-punk/'80s fashionista quality — somewhere between song-era Brian Eno and Flock of Seagulls. Their tune "My Coco" was stuck in my head for a year. The band has lately swapped quirkiness for dark atmospherics. Not entirely unexpected.
But any hipster worth his/her jagged bangs are really going for the openers. Largely do to rampant blogger enthusiasm, Editors currently have the hot hand on the underground.
These UK lads musically resemble NYC "it boys" Interpol. Expect downstrummed guitars, four-on-the-floor drum beats, space echo and artfully detached, Ian Curtis-esque vocals. Keep sharp objects and cords of rope at a healthy distance.
Anyway, the band has already created such a huge buzz that they're practically guaranteed to be The Next Big Thing — at least until the next batch of dramatically cheekboned British fashion plates emerge from university.
How's that for an endorsement? I'll be there, with arms folded across chest, studiously cataloging the band's every move. So should you.
Broke? You can win tickets here.