Washington DC – You’ve got to get past the name. It’s juvenile. It’s offensive. It’s vulgar. Understood. But as soon as you accept Starfucker is… Starfucker… you will love them. And your love will only grow once you see them live.
I was lucky enough to see the band at Black Cat on September 12 and they rocked my world. True to the indie-music genre, not one of the band members can weigh more than 80 pounds and they were all decked out in hipster-appropriate wear (including hand-drawn T-shirts, daffodil-yellow cardigans, and the ugliest grandma glasses you could hope to find). They did, however, set themselves apart from their fellow indie troupes through the inclusion of a tambourine and their phenomenal lighting scheme (imagine being surrounded by a million tiny swirling stars of a million different colors). ‘Twas a great dance party background.
Starfucker also got major points in my book because they focused on what we all trekked out to experience on a Monday night: the music. There was no banter, no break between songs, only a brief but appreciated acknowledgement to the crowd: “Thanks for coming out on a Monday night, yeah!” Anything for you, Starfucker.
The band played its well-known favorites, including German Love and Isabella of Castile. They also indulged in several lengthy instrumental pieces that got the crowd moving (to the extent that PBR tall-boys were not spilled).
As if the show was not good enough already, the band played Pop Song, my ultimate favorite, as their encore. Such a fantastic ending.
So do it: Get past the name, put the band on your Pandora or iTunes or Spotify or whatever gadget you swear by, and see them live next time they pass through your city. It’s a must.