Stars, Plastic Palace Alice @Spectrum, Sydney (26/2/08)

Mon 3rd Mar, 2008 in Gig Reviews

Plastic Palace Alice lack nothing for band members, ideas or ambition – the Melbourne sextet’s array of instruments and epic sound seeming unduly cramped on Spectrum’s small stage. Forthcoming single ‘The Girl who cried wolf’ is their best moment, a complex, purposeful piece that utilises their twin vocal attack to full effect, while radio favourite ‘Empire Falls’ is also rousing. Arcade Fire comparisons are probably inevitable, but The Red Paintings also work as a reference point, having a similar sense of (melo)drama and an almost theatrical songwriting flair.

It would be too glib, and a slight to a hugely promising support act, to say the night really starts with Stars, though the Canadians do begin with the song of (almost) that name – ‘The Night Starts Here’. It’s a bold declaration of intent: a fluid bassline, shimmering guitar and the call-and-response vocals between singers Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan which is such an integral part of their distinctive sound.

The Montreal natives are the kind of band you can almost tell if you’re going to like by their song titles : ‘One More Night’, ‘Elevator Love Letter’ and ‘Set Yourself On Fire’, the latter of which, sadly, doesn’t get an airing tonight. They write songs about love, but not love songs – there’s a world of difference. These are anthems for those who can deconstruct Valentine’s day as a cynical marketing device, but can’t help believing, those who know that love can be wretched as well as exhilarating, and almost everything in between.

“Thanks for illegally downloading our songs” Torquil tells everyone at one point, tongue firmly in cheek. “You fucking bastards!”. Later he offers advice on how to ingratiate yourself with the Stars tour party: “If you give us weed, we’ll put your name on the door”. The perks of stardom (well, cultish indie stardom at least) aside, it’s clear Stars have a rare connection with their audience. It’s entirely appropriate, then, to hear the dedication to the kids who left messages on the band’s myspace encouraging them to tour these shores for the first time. These are songs for beautiful losers, idealists adrift in a culture of endless cynicism, the kind of “dreamers” they say they’ve been meeting every day in Australia.

The set largely focuses on songs from ‘In Our Bedroom After The War’, something of a shame since the likes of ‘Bitches in Tokyo’ and ‘The Ghosts of Genova Heights’ never build up the momentum or have the same intimate lull as, for instance, the much-loved ‘Heart’ or ‘Life Effect’. Still, the inclusion of ‘Personal’, also from their latest album, is inspired. On record, it seems too simple to warrant repeat listens, but live, its almost spoken-word story of a woman who places a personal ad (“28 and bored/grieving over loss) and the uncertain man (“these things can be scary, not always what you want”) who stands her up is a disarmingly sad diversion.

And any quibbles over the setlist are well and truly forgiven when the opening bars of ‘Take Me To The Riot’ strike out, its lyrics of spurned love (“You despise me and I love you/ It’s not much but it’s just enough to keep”) absolutely exploding into an undeniable, unexpectedly triumphant chorus. They then wring all the lump-in-the-throat passion out of ‘Your Ex-Lover is Dead’: “I’m not sorry I met you, I’m not sorry it’s over, I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save” . The emotional rollercoaster ends with the matchless ‘Ageless Beauty’, four minutes and five seconds of everything being right in the world, its refrain just heroic: “We will always be a light, we will always be a light!”

There’s an encore, of course, and a true encore in that the biggest songs had all been played and the band have to confer amongst themselves and take requests from the crowd before deciding on ‘Calendar Girl’, which slowly unfurls into a thing of fragile beauty.

I liked how Millan whispered behind her hand to bandmates the name of the song they were going to play so as not to deny the gathered faithful the thrill and surprise of hearing the opening bars of ‘This Charming Man’. True to form, it’s not a straightforward homage, but a considered remodel of the song, that loses some of the classic single’s jauntiness but retains its wit. You can see how The Smiths would be a guiding light for Stars: like the great Mancuians they infuse a classic pop sensibility with an unusually literate approach; they write songs you feel could have been written just for you, that you can hold to your heart.