Stars Of Aviation

There’s a couple squabbling to my left.

“I thought you said they were French?! Like Serge Gainsbourg, you said… you did!”
“…um…”
“They don’t sound very French… I’m going outside for some air.”
“I’ll just stay here for a bit…”

Red-faced gentleman stands in silence as others towards the Water Rats’ rear – well, assuming the band performs at the venue’s front – chatter themselves into a sweat; before us, Stars Of Aviation, the south coast-based (London and Brighton, last we knew) seven-piece wrongly sold as French to the underwhelmed attendee now supping expensive lager outside, struggle to pierce the background hum such rudeness creates. Shuffling awkwardly, between-song banter delivered with a tinge of shyness, the band look, initially, as it they’re about to be totally overpowered by the minority in the house that feel it necessary to talk their way through a set they’ve probably just paid to see. Soon enough, though, all attentions are focused on what’s unfolding on stage.

“This is the b-side to our new single… did we mention that we have a new single for sale? No? Well, erm… this is the b-side…”

Jonny Anstead’s voice fades away as the delicate ‘All Quiet On The Western Front’ begins; seconds later he’s duetting with wife Louise and leaving every heart in the house swelled to bursting. A slight song, it nevertheless harbours hefty emotions within its simple frame, and while the subject matter’s an obvious one – the separation of lovers: “I know that my love waits for me, ‘til all the stars fall down” – the heard-it-before story’s told in an entirely engrossing manner.

The a-side, ‘Marie et l'accordéon’, is received without the instantaneous hush of its flipside, but come its conclusion the applause from all and sundry – those indifferent twenty minutes ago are now enraptured by Stars’ sweetly intoxicating indie-pop – is pleasantly deafening. Sung entirely in French – explaining that loud-mouthed young lady’s article-opening confusion – the song is gentle and graceful, but also just as dancing shoe-friendly as the similarly twee ‘Young Folks’, surely the single of this summer. ‘Marie et l'accordéon’ – accordion in place of a wavering whistle – is an essential purchase all the same, and when rendered live leaves all before it dumbstruck with gooey-eyed (eared?) love.

The septet’s Snow On Snow songs, now four years old, are starting to show their age when contrasted with the more affecting nature of Stars’ freshest material on display, but the crowd’s assured that further new songs are on the way. Should the qualities of the mentioned-by-name pair be replicated in a future long-player, expect it to be revered ‘til all the stars really do fall down.

Also expect said sparkling shower to alter the opinion of even the most hard-to-impress chatterbox.