Several years ago, I was at a concert at the Southgate House in Newport, Kentucky when the opening performer said something that I’ve often thought back on. In between songs, she decided to commit a little diatribe to the topic of songwriting. The point was something to the effect of no one really paying attention to the lyrical content of modern music. “But we try so hard!” she said, referring to her attention to songwriting. It wasn’t a remarkable statement, really. In fact, I think I rolled my eyes at the time and its sharp self-congratulatory tone has made me wince many times since. Coming from someone off the stage or behind an instrument, however, it makes for an interesting topic. Modern (see: digital) music consumption doesn’t leave us with much time to peek at the literary merits of the melody. Cue Bry Webb, lead songwriter of Toronto’s Constantines.
Over the Constantines’s now four-album career, Webb has shown some pretty smart chops with the pen. Even on 2005’s disappointing Tournament of Hearts, Webb wrote one of the Constantines’ finest–albeit atypical–songs to date: the blasphemously balladic “Soon Enough.” Since 2001, Webb has written anthems full of earnestness and conviction without a shred of contrivance. The Constantines have abided many comparisons from Fugazi to The Replacements to the Boss himself, and while it’s true that they gel characteristics from each artist to great effect, they don’t do justice to just how compelling a songwriter Webb can be.
Last month, Arts & Crafts released the Constantines’ fourth full-length entitled Kensington Heights to an increasingly tepid public. The Constantines haven’t been groomed as the underdog; they quite simply embody that position to a moment in musical history wholly unsympathetic to guitar rock. This is the unfortunate reality surrounding the release of Kensington Heights.
What’s most unfortunate is that there isn’t the least shortage of great material on the record. “Hard Feelings” and “Million Star Hotel” charge out of the gate in Constantines’ fashion and follow up with “Trans Canada,” an embroiling and surreal story of desolation from a car window. “Our Age” is a wised, weathered reminiscence that anchors Webb as a more-than-adept balladeer pondering human nature–“You remember in the living/ there was no real forgiving/ In every age a common bent to wonder on our innocence.”
Kensington Heights isn’t above reproach, though. “Time Can Be Overcome” and the well-mannered “I Will Not Sing a Hateful Song” lose focus and pass least notably. The innocuous “Do What You Can Do” closes the album on a bit of a sour note. Kensington Heights seems to continue the transitional period that began with Tournament of Hearts and hasn’t yet been perfected. The hard-nosed riffy blues-punk of their first two full-lengths is slowly making way for a more intent focus on the pop elements of the genre.
Liking Rock ‘n’ Roll in the 21st century comes with a fair share of persecution and it needs vigilantes like the Constantines to grant it relevance before it becomes an artifact. I believe the Constantines are capable of achieving that feat. Kensington Heights, however, falls short. So, for now, it’s underdogs they’ll stay. The permanence of their first two records in my collection, though, makes me desperately hope that they’re able to flesh out all of their sonic ambitions. That’s right. I root for the underdog.