The Constantines The Constantines

(Three Gut; 2001/Subpop; 2004)

Since when was Canada ever in the spirit of the times? 1812? (Despite which, they're farther ahead than us, with their health care and affordable schooling). Nevertheless, The Constantines seem to tap into the postmodern zeitgeist where rock is "on the ropes" and we are all about to go over the falls into a dystopic froth. And seeing this spirit in themselves, or impending upon them (a bit hard to tell if the Cons are pro or con on the subject), the Constantines decide to take arms with their album, a mix of anthemic retribution blended with handfuls of Lou Reed-isms. I've even made a textful diorama to illustrate:

Anthemics: "As long as we are lonely, we will dance. As long as we are dying, we want the death of rock and roll." (Arizona)

Lou Reed-ism: "This is the Easter of your skin, son." (Young Offenders)

Whether the album hits its target or becomes friendly fire is completely up to the listener. Arizona is a full-force hook placed in front for good reason. If only the band could keep up with this sonic and idealistic assault. However, the album soon lags, and starts to rely heavily on their pattern of screeching guitar assault, followed by flipping their pickups to the mellow setting for their bridges. It's a healthy dose of verse chorus verse, with jumbled, nonsequitur lyrical beat strewn about to disguise it.

The Constantines have pent-up energy against systemic repression in our society, but they only flirt with the notion of combatting it head on. Being restless, but not restless enough to defy comfort, the band turns in the only direction that people in this place can go: into the realm of the postmodern beat. Inside lies a stream of inside jokes and self-amusement. Seriously, how else would anyone be comfortable including a Rod Stewart lyric--Young hearts be free tonight / time is on your side--amid their song (Young Offenders) for no apparent reason? Reading the song lyrics, it describes an "enjoy the night life and paint the town red while the velvet rope herds in the 'column a' marketing group" scenario. But really, is that lifestyle anything that escapes the all-encompassing hand that directs those who fall out of the 'a funnel' into the 'b funnel' of Hot Topic, the Warped Tour or the Pitchfork contingent? Furthermore, are the Constantines advocating or lampooning this mindset? Do they even care?

Further Criticisms:

Seven A.M. sounds like a tune from the Modest Mouse catalog.

Hyacinth Blues and Saint You disappoint me. Hyacinth Blues is a heartfelt surprise, and cuts clearly through the tone of the rest of the album. But it still sounds a bit contrived as it goes along. Seriously, what the hell did these guys try to steal from Bruce Springsteen for these songs? After slogging through these metaphor forests, which ultimately might be nothing more than beat poetry excerpts sans meaning, I am thoroughly confused. But apparently the band gets it, and I'm real dumb for not being able to decipher. My retort channels Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets, "people who speak in metaphors should shampoo my crotch." At least when The Boss writes a lyric, his songwriting is consummate enough that I can formulate a hypothesis to what velvet ribs and hands strapped across engines convey.

Perhaps this review is more my commentary on our times than the album itself. The Constantines are harmless enough, and have the makings of a good band. They want the rock that can change the world, and it's commendable. If they could just get off the beat (poetically speaking), masturbatory metaphors designed just for kicks and inside references, then they'd get to that level a lot quicker. These self-indulgences are ultimately forgiveable, save the fact that they are coupled with piecemeal bits from other artists' oeuvres. For that, I must draw a line in the sand and say that we cannot conjure spirits of past greatness and insert their soundbites into our madlib songbooks. It is not enough to crawl to their giant shoulders, but to use those as a platform.