The days of the big, anthemic guitar bands are over; otherwise The
Constantines would surely be following along in U2's decades-ago footsteps,
converting arena after arena to the next biggest band in the world. Their
third full-length is their best ever, a passionate yet cohesive vault into
outsized rock sound. It is much more of a whole than predecessor Shine a Light,
gathering weight and heft as it proceeds to the mammoth "You Are a
Conductor."
Much has been made of The Constantines' intrinsic polarity — their angular
instrumental sound jostles smooth white-soul vocals — but the two halves
seem more united here than ever before. The power comes from Doug
MacGrath's tumultuous tribal drumming — heavy on the toms and light on the
cymbals, it is the primitive core of nearly every cut. Still, the reason
you can hear it, track after track, is because of the rest of the band's
restraint. There's judicious use of both sparseness and frenzy. For
example, in "Draw Us Lines," percussion carves a bare-bones space for Bryan
Webb's hoarse, dramatic vocals, but unexpected bursts of guitar and
keyboard rupture through in multicolored ecstasy. Similarly, "Hot Line
Operator" builds tension with minimal elements, the slap of off-beats, a
seductive falsetto, a shimmering keyboard, threatening always to explode,
but always pulling back. Not until "Lizaveta" do those thick, distorted
guitars emerge, powering a slow rock dirge to triumph. "It's good... we
desire disorder... with this desire... we our own destroyers..." sings Webb
against the rock-steadiest of beats, that disorder contained but immanent
as it is in all great rock songs.
"Working Full-Time" is another triumph, begun in a scream and pedal-altered
haze of guitars and shimmering to life with pulsating guitar riffs. The
subject matter is the dignity of the working man, an Orozco mural's worth
of larger-than-life lunchpail heroes trudging through the day-to-day. It's
not something that glamorous bands spend much time thinking about,
but The Constantines bring fire to the discussion with their chant
"We... won't... be... undersold." With "You Are a Conductor," we again hear a
ritual drumbeat, slow tempo'd and magnificent, punctuated by ringing
guitar notes and mystical observations about "jungles of doubt" and
"battles to come." Even the guitar solos are slowed, heavy, weighted with
meaning... the song is larger, more significant because of its measured pace.
The final song of Tournament of Hearts is the exception to everything — not
a big song or a slow song or an anthemic song, it would sound fairly strange
in
a football stadium. Yet "Windy Road," just Webb's
whispered voice, a few guitar chords and a reverberating keyboard, has its
own tension and drama, evidence that The Constantines can be just as
passionate in pianissimo as in triple forte.
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