Left of the Dial
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Stars of Track and Field: "Centuries Before Love and War"
by K. O'Day
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The Stars of Track & Field come from Portland, Oregon, they take their name from a Belle and Sebastian song (a track from 1996’s If You’re Feeling Sinister), in photographs they gaze off with existential expressions on their sunglassed faces and they wax poetic about love and war—among other things. In a nutshell, these are the poster boys for a certain genre (yes, emo), and one that’s been as much maligned in recent years as it has been mimicked and marketed. But even some of the most jaded emo-haters get misty-eyed when, say, the Postal Service is playing, and the Stars of Track & Field achieve a similar effect with Centuries Before Love and War. Expanding on what began with their debut EP, You Came Here for the Sunset This Year, the trio has drawn comparisons to Death Cab for Cutie and the Shins, and even to Michelle Branch (pre-Wreckers days) thanks to the pitch-perfect pop that is sweetly delivered without the trademark hint of saccharine that’s giving the genre a bad name. The album starts out sounding somewhat anthemic, culminating in the plaintive melancholy of “Movies of Antarctica,” a sweeping but somewhat uninteresting drama. But by track four, “Lullabye for a G.I./Don’t Close Your Eyes,” the album hits its stride and stays with it: “You light on fire/I’ll be outside/Last one to notice/Run for your life” are lyrics delivered in a cryptic sing-song, a little bit creepy, a little bit comforting and really, really catchy. True to form, there are also the requisite lyrics about robots and romance, and about trees, and about being confused…Oh and if we’re mining Belle and Sebastian for band names, I like “Catastrophe Waitress.”
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