"When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire" - so croaks a "seen-it-all-done-it-all" voice in the opening seconds of Stars' third album, 2005's Set Yourself on Fire (Arts & Crafts), and it's as telling a quote as any from the band's seven-year-history of chronicling matters of the heart with raw, unblinking candor. If things get colossally, consumingly fucked up, then it's probably time to re-create and re-invent - hard to argue that. It's a valuable lesson, though, and one that sadly takes a while to learn and embrace for some folks. Starting over can be a scary prospect, after all. Well, turn off Dr. Phil and set aside that self-help book you borrowed from the library - here's where Stars can help. They've been there, and they know what you really need: catharsis. By keeping the promise of starting over and re-creation on the front burner at all times - even during their many tales of love running frustratingly afoul - it isn't long before the drama gives way to feelings of empowerment. "You can do this," they announce from their warriors-for-love platform. "You must."

Set Yourself on Fire remains my favorite Stars full-length - it is here that Torquil Campbell's and Amy Millan's vocal interplay feels the most charged, and it is here that the band's blend of orchestral-pop and synth-driven indie rock comes together so effortlessly that it puts other similarly minded artists to shame. Violins, violas, cellos, and glockenspiels share a rich tableau with warm-edged New Order/OMD/Saint Etienne-esque keyboards and some of the most overtly "rock with a capital R" guitars of their career, and thrust in front it all, Millan and Campbell enunciate every word as if it matters more than anything in the world.

And it does, of course: Stars don't just write lyrics, they hurl them out with the confidence of an accomplished short story writer. That's what most of their songs are, after all - short stories, or, at the least, character studies. I'm a sucker for the frantic throb of the album's "What I'm Trying to Say," in which Campbell offers the observation: "You look so good in the shoes of an outcast / I kissed your throat every time they said it wouldn't last / but then I knew you I knew you I knew you / we fell apart in the parties of the empty heart." Then again, I always seem to fall pretty hard for "Ageless Beauty," perhaps Millan's most brilliant of her many shining moments here. "Oceans won't freeze, so loosen your heart," she advises over gorgeous waves of shimmering pop:

The disc's highlight arrives in the final track, "Calendar Girl." (No, not a cover of the Neil Sedaka cringefest, mercifully.) Over the gradual build of swelling strings, chugging guitars, and rippling cascades of cymbals, Campbell and Millan take turns giving voice to resilience and eventual bright-eyed optimism in the face of adversity. "Calendar girl who's in love with the world / stay alive!" goes the rallying cry as initial despair gives way to hope. I won't give away the ending, but I will say that just thinking about it moistens the eyes. A live version? Yes, please:

Stars' latest, this year's In Our Bedroom After the War (Arts & Crafts), is a thoroughly engaging continuation of some of the themes I've just mentioned, with an interesting development worth mentioning: the new one displays more theatricality than ever before. The band has gotten its share of Smiths/Morrissey comparisons in the past - perhaps due in part to their festive take on "This Charming Man" from 2001's Nightsongs (Le Grand Magistery) - but I've always thought these folks were closer to a Stephen Merritt/Neil Hannon strain of melodrama.

Artists such as Merritt and Hannon compose odes to those willing to throw themselves headfirst into love, whereas Morrissey...well, he's writing more for those who simply obsess over those sorts of things. Campbell appears to have channeled the Mr. Broadway within him, and a few of these new songs exhibit an unapologetically theatrical zing to them, recalling moments of Merritt's Magnetic Fields or Hannon's Divine Comedy. "Barricade," with its damning croons of bitter-pills like "Oh how could anyone / love your poor black heart" over brooding piano, bears similarities to early material by the Beautiful South, a resemblance helped along by Campbell's Paul Heaton-like delivery. Hats off and the whole works to Stars for taking some chances and exploring new territory, rather than simply cranking out Set Yourself on Fire Part Two. This isn't to say fans will be whiplashed by the changes. The Millan-led "Window Bird" and "Bitches in Tokyo" are destined to be future crowd faves, sporting all the hallmarks of the easily recognizable Stars sound. The former has bullied itself up to the top shelf of Stars faves for me - can't get enough of the song's majestic careening-out-of-control at the end, reminiscent of Radiohead's "Just" thanks to some enthralling Jonny Greenwood-like guitar. And "My Favourite Book" is a charming morsel of smoother-than-velvet easy lounge-pop that reminds me a bit of early work by the Cardigans, or perhaps Good Humor-era Saint Etienne. For a round of fist-pumping action, head straight to "Take Me to the Riot":

But why experience the love-revolution at home when you can join it in person? Stars will be playing at Bimbo's this Tuesday and Wednesday at 8 p.m. Fellow romantic Lloyd "Are You Ready to Be Heartbroken?" Cole will open. Can't beat that.