Considering I lived within caber-tossing distance of the Glengarry Highland Games, one of the biggest and oldest exhibition of all things (and some individuals) plaid in North America, I should have a sporran full of what some call caterwauling. There's only so much bagpiping a person can stand, right?Wrong. Instead, the little hairs on the back of my neck still stand at attention and shivers rocket through my body after the first few bars of, in the case of Low Star, just about every song on their self-titled CD. The funny thing? According to their liner notes, no bagpipes were hurt in the production of this cd. The only explanation I'm willing to swallow regarding the source of the pseudo-bagpipe feel is the mystical, magical arrangement of otherwise "usual" instruments to re-create that unique, love it/leave it highlands sound.
But first you have to get past this blooper: Low Stars title cut "Tell The Teacher" lyrics are evidently being sung by adults in their thirties, yet they plead with someone to tell their teacher that they won't make it to class. (Don't know where these guys went to college, but MY college instructors rarely noticed absentees, let alone expect an explanation for their absence---and no student was older than their early twenties.) But if you can get past that, and the nagging little feeling that you've heard this melody before (Wing's "Mull of Kintyre"), you'll find yourself alternating between toe tapping and wistfully recalling the simpler, kinder time of boy bands.
Before you ditch this review and subsequently this cd, hold up. There's a whole lot incredibly right with this cd and you won't forgive yourself for ignoring or lambasting Low Stars. For starters, the vocals and harmonies display an effortless, almost psychic connection between band members. That type of in sync (absolutely no relation to THAT 'N Sync) natural, fluid and layered vocals is generally reserved for bands made up of multiple members from the same family. What Low Stars lacks in shared DNA, it more than makes up for in cohesive, warm, rich harmonies. Think Loggins and Messina's childlike but not childish "House At Pooh Corner" with a gentle feathering by the Eagles.
In fact, there's a sweet serenity woven throughout much of the album, with several tracks poised to bump off the purple dinosaur and those weird Wiggles from many ankle biters' top 10.
The balance of the cuts could easily be picked up as theme song for most TV dramadies or movie trailers. That's a compliment. Just look what Gray's Anatomy has done for The Fray. Low Stars deserves at LEAST that much recognition. Few records can consistently turn out music that both soothe and inspires. Fewer still can also crank it up to recharge and create the sensation, if not the reality, that, at the end of the day or the end of the cd, everything's going to be fine, just fine. That's no small task in a clichι- ridden, irony-chasing, false bravado-spouting music industry. A glimmer of optimism, and soul-stroking capabilities, courtesy of Low Stars.
