PHOTO: Courtesy of Arts & Crafts

By John Hendel

April 17, 2008 | 12:00 a.m. CST

Amy Millan is most at peace in bed. Nine pillows cover the cushy queen-size mattress she bought a year ago, and not a single one is for show. Every pillow allows her to fade into sleep in her new house in Montreal, her favorite city in the world. There are no stuffed animals; her sweetheart of three years is teddy bear enough for her. It’s not a bad deal.

“When you’re in your bedroom,” Millan says softly, “you feel the safest.”

For a long time, the 34-year-old Canadian singer didn’t have her own bed because of tours and roaming. Millan’s daring attitude and lust for life made her a natural for music, and considering she’s lead singer for the super-polished, orchestral quintet Stars and a member of Broken Social Scene, her résumé is not suffering. She even found time to release a solo album. The title of Stars’ 2007 album, In Our Bedroom After the War, suggests that primal need for recovery Millan seeks now in her Montreal bedroom.

It’s not the wild hair and pale skin but the vibrant eyes and lively voice that lend Millan her charismatic beauty, which also characterize much of Stars’ music. Dueling vocals and pounding drums elegantly unite to fuel some of the new album’s best songs, including “Midnight Coward” and “Take Me To The Riot,” its first single.

Stars has released four albums of sophisticated pop music since its formation in 2001. Evan Cranley and Chris Seligman often handle the writing, and Millan and Torquil Campbell tackle the melodies, though roles remain fluid. Tension naturally affects the band and inspires the bittersweet pleas of the song “Bitches in Tokyo,” but the biggest lesson Millan has learned from her time with Stars is the outstanding scope of forgiveness within the human heart.

“You’re married to four other people,” Millan says of the band’s dynamic. “Eventually, we’re all trying to do the same thing.”

She wants people to get whatever they want out of her music rather than send them some bottled message in lyric form. The judgmental scrutiny of art often nauseates her while the heart’s parameters guide her wry comebacks and casual insights. Neurology has fascinated Millan since she dropped acid at the age of 15. Life all came down to the brain and chemicals, she realized, not to mention heart.

“We emote,” Millan says. “In this era, there’s a lot of ironic rock, a lot of coldness. To me it’s a lot about fear.”

Although the band’s fame soared after its third album, Millan barely registers the change. Ego never tore apart Stars. The album tracks never list individual songwriters. The band credits each simply to Stars, and Millan credits the attitude to Canada’s socialist influence.

Humility runs through Millan’s assessment of Stars, and she’ll never discount the power of luck in the band’s rise. They have yet to reach a level of fame where people walk down the street and recognize them, Millan claims, but in the same chat she can joke about not getting enough face time with Conan O’Brien when performing on his show in March. That’s not a performance anyone can boast — a testament to the success she might not feel ready to accept.

But she doesn’t need that to sleep at night. Millan sees herself still recording with Stars 10 years down the road, possibly with a baby or two, and for now is content with her life — her sweetheart, her fellow band members and a growing musical career that can only warrant the name Stars.

“Our world’s not about being cool,” Millan says. “I’m still just hanging out with my friends, playing music, which is what I’ve been doing since I was 15.”

— John Hendel

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