Atari Star
And Other Smaller, Brighter Worlds
[Johann's Face; 2002]
Rating: 2.6
Dear Josh,
Remember the first time we met? On that cloudy afternoon in the high school
parking lot? You brushed up against me as you unlocked the door of your car,
and I noticed your shy smile and your Pedro the Lion t-shirt. I said hi.
And you said, "There's a sharp December hush/ In the clearing where she kneels/
Frost upon the ground/ Shoes worn in the heel/ This could be paradise."
I shivered and said, "Oh, wow. Is that Braid?"
You sighed. "No, that's the Atari Star."
I'll never forget the way our hands touched when you gave me the CD. It had this
really pretty leaf drawing on the cover, and it was titled, And Other Smaller,
Brighter Worlds, which is so beautiful and internal and intense. Your eyes
lit up like soft September musing and you said, "It's your new favorite band."
Later that night, when we met on Instant Messenger. I plied you for more
information. You told me that the Atari Star was on a record label called Johann's
Face that put out a lot of bands you used to listen to back when you were "sort of
a punk rocker." And there's a close label association with the Alkaline Trio, which
is one of my favorite bands. And you said Marc Ruvolo, lead singer/guitarist for
the Atari Star, is a co-owner of Johann's Face Records.
And I was so excited to hear the CD, because most bands that have "Atari" in the
name are good. Except that one that's sort of goth. You told me to listen to track
four, "Occasional Genius and Everyday Polite Terror." I did. And I heard these
beautiful arpeggios of a keyboard on glockenspiel setting, and these repetitive,
but totally sincere guitar lines. And I thought for a minute it sounded like
elevator music, but that was cool because it also sounded a little bit like that
band, Spandau Ballet. But not quite so good. Then this sweet, sort of off-key
voice comes in singing, "I cross my fingers/ Your look of sadness melts away."
And I teared a little, Josh. For real. Especially when he sang, "You will become
the things you say/ But stay with me tonight."
The whole CD was that good. Even on "Capricorn" when the keyboard in the opening
line sounds a lot like "Jaws," but slower. I guess that's unintentional. Because
these guys totally know how to rock the keyboard. So much so that I went up to the
attic and pulled out my old Casio, and you know what? I could play most of the
songs after a couple hours.
Not all the songs were slow and sad, either. Some of them, like "Black Licorice
and Gas Fumes," were up-tempo and dancy like my favorite songs on old Promise Ring
records. There's this piano part that mom says sounds kind of like Neil Diamond,
or maybe Billy Joel. And "[hands]" was just an instrumental with vacant white noise
and disconnected voices, which sounds like a sonic interpretation of my totally
hardcore ennui.
On our first date, we went to the vegetarian restaurant next door to Barnes and
Noble, and after dinner we hooked up in your car to the sound of "Ordinary Clock."
You wept when the keyboards crescendoed in those pretty, childlike chords at the
line, "She whispered to me un-self-consciously/ She whispered to me with gravity/
That this, too, shall pass." And then you tried to take off my bra.
It was like that for two weeks. Then my sister came home from college. I dragged
her up to my room. "This is my favorite band," I said.
I proudly played all our favorite songs, but halfway through the third, she stood
abruptly, holding her ears, and said: "Lindsay, this sounds like my ninth grade,
over-enunciating, tone deaf actor ex-boyfriend, singing his own poetry, and
playing a Casio keyboard at a Karaoke bar on 80s night. The only song that sort of
works for me is "Hands Accidentally Touch," which is fairly benign, quiet, and
pretty. Even if the lyrics are silly and the keyboards are cheesy. Your
boyfriend turned you onto this?"
I was so embarrassed, Josh, because the more I thought about it, she was right.
The CD was pretty bad. But not even bad in a funny way. Bad in a depressing,
pathetic, spineless sort of way. And that's not sexy. It's not even very appealing
if you think about it. Kinda like how you'd get all sensitive and emotional right
before you tried to take off my underwear. That wasn't a coincidence, was it?
So, I'm dumping you for a Strokes fan I met on Makeoutclub.com. His name is Jeremy.
He smokes, and he doesn't like Atari Star. That's all you really need to know.
And so, what better way to end than with a line from our song, "Hands Accidentally
Touch"? The same line you wrote in the fog on my window when we were making out
in the car last week: "I fix this image and then file it away/ Hands that touch/
Linger briefly/ Then withdraw/ Landslides of silence touch the ether."
What the fuck does that mean, anyway?
-Alison Fields, March 22nd, 2002