Stars were a band I used to love.
They made pop songs cool for me again during a time when indie was in, and experimental sounds were raging (weird for the sake of weird). They introduced me to computerized (and often broken) drum beats in light, up-beat, guitar driven tracks. And, even though I thought I’d die if I heard another love song, they made it genuine, and my heart grew ten sizes too big like the Grinch’s.
For me, their highlights came from the goof-ball with a straight face Toxic Holiday, their unexpected curses (“Fuck you Hollywood, I’m the glory” – Krush), and the dynamic bursts on Soft Revolution. There was a pale romantic simpleness to it all, like a love note scribbled on a greasy paper bag.
But something changed. I’ve been to a handful of their concerts. Most recently, I was at their U of T frosh concert. They weren’t the Stars I used to love. In between songs, Amy Millan explained to the crowd, “Our new album is available at the back tent… but you’re probably just going to download it anyway.” It was as if they hated us.
They used to be starry-eyed and hopeful. Now they see the worst in people. I’m staying hopeful.
Dear Stars,
We had a good run. I gotta admit, some of my best times were spent dreaming about the soft revolution, and screaming it full blast with the windows down.
But, not anymore.
Fuck you.
Don’t call me.
Love,
K.E. Easterling
Toxic Holiday (I won’t tell Amy Millan if you don’t)
