Live Review | Stellastarr* & Editors @ Sonar 2006.04.02

editors

stellastarr

Sharing the matte black cavern of Sonar’s club stage, tour mates Stellastarr and Editors represent two schools of new wave romantics. Stellastarr’s genre bending debut represented a shift towards flamboyant art rock from the Strokes disaffected lifestyle noise. Editors attempt to shift the sound back to the future, arriving half-way to Interpol’s melancholy robotic tensions and adding their own punked-out shoegazer elements. Hardly old hands, Stellastarr plan to give the young turks a run for their money, stepping aside from headliners to support mid-tour.

Further carving their own distinctive place among the lions of new rock with their second LP (Harmonies for the Haunted), Stellastarr defy categorization, breaking away from the critical scrutiny of their influences to. Frontman Shawn Christiansen rips and flails on stage to “On My Own”, his voice a Siamese David Byrne/ Richard Hell monster, hinging between choir and chaos. The down tempo rhythm is haunting long before his floor-crawling seizures. Propelling the eerie thump, drummer Arthur Kremer stands mid-way through and rips electrical tape x’s from his nipples, gritting his teeth. Bombshell Amanda Tannen steals the spotlight with meandering basslines and harmonic chirps behind Christiansen’s blare. The boy-girl dynamic works with Pixies-like effect on former single “My Coco”, marching the song until it stands erect on piercing guitar lines cutting through the air. A student of Johnny Greenwood University, guitarist Michael Jurin tweaks his way to sheering white noise, scalding “Love and Longing” before reducing it to a woozy dream, boosting Christiansen’s ascending vocals.
Stellastarr plays their fierce dance rock with all the enthusiasm of garage band teens, as eager to please a club of one hundred as they are the thousands they have possessed worldwide over the last three years. Fervent, sharp and reckless, the Brooklyn foils heighten the atmosphere and lay down the gauntlet to the upstarts Editors.

Editors’ singer/ guitarist Tom Smith shyly saunters on stage behind husky bassist Russell Leetch at half past eleven with the unenviable task of maintaining that momentum. Residing in Birmingham, England (the cradle of Black Sabbath), Editors have focused their dark arts more on the Thatcherism-era depression than the devil himself. However, the doomy debonair of their debut album washes away like a goth’s mascara when Smith nervously greets the crowd: “Thanks for stickin’ around.”

Smith squints, slowly regaining focus as his eyes gradually adjust to the spotlight. He giggles with guitarist Chris Urbanowicz, slinking through the strap of his Telecaster and nervously adjusting the mic stand. He closes his eyes, breathes deep and simultaneously strums and sings the opening to “Lights” briskly strumming to lifting guitar leads. Ed Lay’s cowbell plonk on “Blood” anchors Leetch’s pogo rhythm, as Smith and Urbanowicz alternately shimmer as shyness works off and Smith’s volatile side comes to bear. He shivers and shakes like a Parkinsonian Thom Yorke, stomping and banging his guitar as he strums the progression under a lead that cuts like police sirens through a calm night. When the song ends, Smith is so excited his polished accent turns to a giddy prattle - reflecting the enthusiasm of the crowd as the show progresses, in a town he’s never been to and possibly never thought of.

“Camera” glides in over synthesized chords played by Smith as he pours love lorn lyrics over top. The stark black stage fills with cigarette smoke as heart rates slow down, causing a surreal, nearly religious experience amid Urbanowicz’s bell chime guitar. They stay in the down-tempo briefly through “You Are Fading,” before the pounding of guitar, drums and bass all drive the song outward.
Debuting two newer songs, “Weight of the World” and “Bones”, Editors show sings of growth and polish, counterbalancing the stadium-sized punch with delicate introspection. Though the blistering singles (“Bullets”, “Munich”, “Blood”) and trampling set closer “Fingers in Factories” are worth the price of admission alone, the awe-inspiring promise Editors carry behind their passion will keep fans coming for years to come.

Both Stellastarr and Editors display the fundamental traits that make the “brand new wave” so compelling. While one band is the torch-bearers of the first wave and other is the sign of the times, they prove they are both more than just tightly-space dance beats, bottomless rhythms and sharp guitars. The delight and spirit behind the music Stellastarr and Editors produce make them artists among businessmen.












Editors