- The sentiment of “product of their environment” has hardly ever rung more true for anyone than it does for Starcrawler. Their environment is LA. Said environment is on full display on their sophomore album Devour You. The group populates a new class of bands that comfortably straddle the divide between an occasionally gaudy, Sunset Strip rock flair and the grassroots, shotgun blast of energy coming from a crew of youngsters getting together and making noise. They’re as comfortable enrapturing a stadium rock crowd opening for Foo Fighters as they are ripping through their sets at Thrasher’s Death March adorned with fake blood and caked in dirt.
A gaggle of children bookend Devour You. Opener Lizzy revisits casual youthful misdemeanours with anything but a casual backbone. Launched forward with galloping toms and bouncing guitar passages, it all explodes into a chorus where the Arrow De Wilde and Henri Cash vocal duality first comes into play. While the former shreds her larynx, Cash’s nigh-spoken interjections swirl over an increasingly jiggered song.
No More Pennies, one of a few singles that came out prior, bleeds a Dinosaur Jr aesthetic down to the warbling vocals with momentary breaks and croaks, while playing an arsenal of layered guitar flourishes. It is far from a knock on the young group though. The subtle piano placement is a nod to a more theatrical sound. The duelling vocals come back on this song with a more complimentary delivery. Being able to deliver up these catchy melodies with toe-tapping rhythms devoid of the battering rock veneer demonstrates a steady improvement in Starcrawler’s song writing and confidence in their ability. In saying that, the fury is brought back in full effect with Toy Teenager and Tank Top. The former channels a frustration of embodying a real life doll with dress ups included and a loss of personal autonomy as a result. Continuing with the children’s inclusion, Call Me A Baby mocks a schoolyard taunt, even down to the delivery. It does so while rejecting an emotional arrested development and dissipates into a pantomime march that would not seem out of place at a carnival. It's an oddly gratifying conclusion to the record.
In a similar vein to Sheer Mag, there is an authentic feeling about this young band which may have something to do with Arrow having previously run a fanzine for the scene. In a way that's often missing in glam, Starcrawler shines with authenticity rather than coming across as a nodding homage. Brandishing the aesthetic of a bygone era, through the theatrics of ballsy rock, with flair to spare and limitless chutzpah, they keep the faith of their environment’s originators and smear the ugliness of its history with urgent, reckless abandon.
- Matt Lynch.