The Beat Surrender

Forgive me if I sound like an acerbic old music hack – I’m not, I’m 17 and I should know better – but Stellastarr*’s emergence in 2003 was at a time when the phrase ‘style over substance’ applied far too potently to far too many bands from across the Atlantic. And for the tragically hip, Stellastarr* ticked nearly all the right boxes; hailing from New York and sporting trendy ironic haircuts and shabby clothing, mainly. This aesthetic continued [or more likely was a result of] the band’s influences. Their eponymous debut was a delightful mesh of Pixies humour and melody and Sonic Youth style histrionics, with occasional nods to Talking Heads and Blondie and of course, Joy Division, oh and not to mention The Clash and Duran Duran. It was an encyclopaedia of everything that’s been cool since 1975.

But instead of attracting derision, this became Stellastarr*’s attraction. Whilst their peers were all too content to generate tepid pastiches of their chosen idols [The Star Spangles, anyone?] and consequently conquer the world, Stellastarr* were altogether too ambitious, too genuine in their intensions and too convincing in their pretensions – [they are art-school Brooklynites, after all]. It’s a frustrating irony, compounded by the fact that the selling out of their UK tour of small-to-middling sized venues was largely due to their support band, a lacklustre novelty synth quartet from Las Vegas known as The Killers.

So it’s with a certain anticipation and that pleasurable nostalgia you get for the music you listened to only a couple of years ago – a kind of appreciation for the passé, rather than the retro, with which we greet Harmonies for the Haunted. You’ve got every right then, to feel a bit dissatisfied when opener ‘Lost in Time’ begins with a piano intro so placid even Aqualung would deem it too dreary. It’s not until the, um, Coldplay like atmospherics pass and you’re hit by Shawn Christensen’s characteristic vocals that you remember why you started listening to this at all.

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