(Vinyl Love is a series of posts that quite simply lists, describes, and displays the pieces in my growing vinyl collection. You can bet that each record was given a spin during the drafting of each corresponding post.)
Artist: The Clientele Album Title: The violet hour Year released: 2003 Year reissued: 2025 Details: standard black
The skinny: Here’s one that’s been on my vinyl wish list for a very, very long time, perhaps even from day one of my collecting vinyl in earnest. “The Violet hour” was my introduction to London-based dream pop outfit The Clientele and to say I was obsessed with its gauzy sound for the larger part of the 2000s would be putting it mildly. I’ve been intently following the group ever since and every single one of their long players has found a place on my record shelves, all but this one… until now. As I wrote when the song featured below appeared on my Best tunes of 2003 list, the original recordings had been thought to have been lost, which was why this was the only album in their discography that hadn’t seen a recent vinyl reissue. When it was located, incidentally in the year of the album’s 20th anniversary, I was hopeful that this reissue would finally see the light. And now, two years later, here it is and I wasted no time in procuring a copy. It’s a thing of beauty.
Here’s a band that may be largely forgotten to the quickly moving trends of musical history.
Stellastarr* was formed in 2000 out of the ashes of a couple other short-lived bands, arising from the burgeoning indie rock scene in Brooklyn and Manhattan that would also give us The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Vampire Weekend, and TV on the Radio. Three of its four members, singer/guitarist Shawn Christensen, bassist Amanda Tannen, and drummer Arthur Kremmer, were art school student and friends who were interested in starting a band but their plans were still loose, a chance meeting with guitarist Michael Jurin and a successful jam session put them on a more focused path. They would release three full-length albums and an EP and tour domestically and internationally with the likes of Jane’s Addiction, The Raveonettes, Editors, and The Killers. They never officially broke up, going on a hiatus in 2009, and as far as I can tell, there’s never been any talk of a reunion. None of its members have really looked back. Jurin remains in the music industry, performing solo and in several bands, and scoring a few films. Tannen and Kremmer are both graphic designers. And Christensen paints and makes films, winning an Oscar in the short film category back in 2012.
Listening to their music now, especially their first two albums, makes me both nostalgic for that time and place and has me wondering what could have been for the quartet. I absolutely loved their self-titled debut, not bothering me in the least as it did many of their critics that they wore their influences on their sleeve (The Cure, Pulp). Their second album, “Harmonies for the haunted”, showed maturity and saw the group forging their own path, even if their sound did lose some of its punchiness and immediacy in the process. “Civilized”, the final album, was the real disappointment, which was perhaps why it was their final album. Perhaps they had already punched out their clocks.
Those who enjoyed playing baseball video games in the mid-2000s might recognize “My coco”. It was easily my favourite song off Stellastarr’s 2003 self-titled debut. It’s a rocking number that is instantly likeable, a thumping beat, ticky tacky high hats and a dancing bass line start it all off. Duetting male (equal parts Robert Smith and Jarvis Cocker) and female (a breathless Louise Wener) vocals run through the chorus line once, before it kicks into higher gear with soaring and chugging guitars and serious bass backbone. The effect it creates feels like fighter jets, and indeed, the whole song sounds like a dog fight out of top gun. But what really kills me is the instrumental break, the duelling guitars throwing it down, so that you can almost smell the sweat off the musicians shredding each others faces and it all explodes when the vocals kick in, call and response like, an energy that would light up any dance floor.
Even now, whenever this song comes up on my Apple Music shuffle, I have to listen to it a second time. It’s one of those infectious songs that just doesn’t seem long enough.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 2003 list, click here.
We’re pretty sure it was Victoria’s idea. It sounds like something she might have come up with and has definitely had similar ideas a few times during our many years together.
She surprised me one day early in 2004 by asking if I would be interested in seeing David Bowie in concert. Neither of us could tell you how she heard that he was coming to town on his latest tour and playing the arena out in Kanata that used to be called the Corel Centre, but perhaps she heard mention of it on the radio. Of course, I was always game to see live music, but even more so if it was an artist I enjoyed. And though I honestly had never considered seeing Bowie live before, was really only casual fan at that point, knowing his hits and appreciating his contributions to modern music, I was most definitely in. Victoria invited a new friend from work, Eileen, who we are still friends with today, and her husband Tom* and we made a night of it, heading out for dinner first, at Johnny Farina’s on Elgin Street for pizza.
It was such a great night. Memorable in so many ways. It was probably our first trip out to Kanata, not knowing that we would buy a house spitting distance from the arena a handful of years later. We were introduced to The Polyphonic Spree, the 24 member psychedelic symphony led by sometime Tripping Daisy frontman, Tim DeLaughter, because we managed to get to the arena early enough to our seats to catch the lion’s share of their opening set. And of course, the biggest highlight was seeing Bowie himself, performing live on his last ever tour, a set representative of the many phases of his storied career. He made an even bigger fan out of me and played a whole bunch of tunes that Victoria didn’t know she knew and definitely didn’t know he wrote and performed.
I mention all this because this particular night is the sole reason “Days” ever came to my attention and has found itself at the number eight position on this list of my favourite tunes of 2003.
As I started doing at some point, possibly with this very concert, I wanted to ensure I was prepared for the show, beyond the best of compilation I already had in my compact disc collection. I borrowed a handful of Bowie’s more recent albums, including 2002’s “Heathen” and 2003’s “Reality”, from the Ottawa Public Library to familiarize myself with them and was pleasantly surprised at how easily I connected. There were, of course, a bunch of early standouts: “Slip away” and “Everyone says ‘hi’” from the former and “Never get old” and this one, “Days” from the latter, most which he performed at the concert.
“All you gave
You gave for free
I gave nothing in return
And there’s little left of me”
Track seven on David Bowie’s twenty-fourth studio album is steeped in themes of mortality, as are most of the songs of “Reality”. It’s so much self-reflection and realization, feelings of regret, like he’s looking back at his life and all the women he’s loved and lost, all the wrongs he wishes he could right. It begins with a lackadaisical bongo beat, synth washes, and expansive acoustic strums. Once the song kicks in to a higher gear after the first chorus, some alien percussive keys take over, all atmospheric and gossamer light. There’s so many layers of synths, like an alien angel choir, and Bowie is leading it all with that inimitable voice, layers upon layers to peel away, like the pages on a day calendar.
And looking back at this song, this night, those memories, twenty years later, I feel like I can better pick up what David Bowie is laying down.
*Who is sadly no longer with us.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 2003 list, click here.
My (life in) music lists 