i already miss the Constantines

There's a gaping hole in Canada's music scene. Yesterday on a CBC Radio 3 morning show Constantines frontman Bryan Webb dropped some hints that he and his band were thinking about calling it quits. Today what he said was confirmed. And just like that, my favourite Canadian band is no more. Over the past decade the Constantines released four great albums (though, over the past year  I've listened to their self-titled debut more than almost anything else). I wrote extensively on Shine a Light for my "best of the 2000s series" and was lucky enough to get an interview with Webb a year and a half ago. Here's a video for one of their most celebrated songs off Shine a Light.

albums of the decade (III)

I can't stop posting! However, when you consider the stack of cds sitting in front of me right now, it soon becomes apparent that I've got my work cut out for me.


Constantines - Shine a Light (Three Gut Records, 2003)

The Constantines had a great decade. In fact, they’ve just celebrated their tenth year as a band and are still playing some of the most electrifying live shows in the country. They’ve got four solid albums of blue-collar rock n’ roll and, although they recently made a shift a new label (Arts and Crafts), the band shows no signs of slowing down. This band has staying power. Shine a Light is not only their heaviest album (this one’s debatable); it’s also their best (this one, not so much). This follow up to their self-titled debut stays true to the urgency of their punk roots, but Shine a Light has the honesty of a band well into its career, easily moving between diverse sounds and moods. There’s something unsettling about an album this angry and impassioned, yet so carefully refined and channelled into songs like the blistering title track. Then there’s that sprawling anthem, “Nighttime/Anytime (It’s Alright),” that harrowing “Insectivora,” in which Bryan Webb tells us in great detail how he’s “learning to survive.” Sure Webb can howl, but he’s really a tender soul. Take “Young Lions” or “On to You” or “Poison,” for example. Webb flips from his unrestrained social realism to romantic lines like “make your love too wild for words” ("Young Lions") or “When we dance the night belongs to us” ("Poison"). We, the adolescent hipsters of 2003, instantly melt.

I came to know this album when I was in my first year of university. A friend of mine gave me her cd; she didn’t really care for it, and I was obsessed with “Poison.” Like many, I was also intrigued by the band’s name, as my course in Christian history made a pretty big deal about Constantine. I always imagined they were sort of being ironic, but as I found out in an interview last year the band name has nothing at all to do with the historical figure who single-handedly made Christianity synonymous with the Western empire. Whether or not these guys will admit it, I still like to think the name has some theological significance.

Below is an excerpt from an interview with Bryan Webb of the Constantines. As his music would suggest, he was quite gracious and amicable on the phone. The March/April issue of Stylus will (hopefully) feature our conversation in full.

There's a lot of hopeful sentiment running through Kensington Heights and it's quite striking to compare that to some of your earlier stuff, like your self-titled album.
Bryan Webb: We all grew up in that hardcore punk network in the nineties and that's how we met one another. Those were our formative years as musicians and learning to be a band. And that's how we learned to write songs, being in that world and receiving that style of play. For me, I didn't quite get that songs have to come from a frustrated energy. For a while I wrote from that punk-rock energy of being restless and fed-up or not being able to identify with most of what you face from day to day. So I learned to write songs in that mode and gradually I started to realize that the songs, anything I said from that perspective tended to be really short-lived. The energy that came from anger was productive, but the tension that came from that was more temporary. Whereas anything I said that was in celebration of something was more lasting. I felt like I could revisit it and be happy that I'd written it...something beyond myself. With Shine a Light, I wanted to start writing more loving songs. Songs that celebrated people that were living in a way that was inspiring or interesting. People that we actually knew who were surviving in interesting ways. And there are some songs that we just don't go back to, that were so much in that frame of mind that we can't go back to or identify with. Like some of the songs from the first record or Shine a Light don't speak to me or I don't feel like I can get back into that frame of mind. The songs that we do [play], like "Young Offenders," which we've been playing for nine years or more - there's a kind of good spirit in them that I want to preserve and keep putting out there. That's why they keep being part of the set. That said, we still play "Hyacinth Blues," and that's a pretty angry song, but it's specific enough but continues in popular culture and it's still worth talking about.

One thing that's always puzzled me about the Constantines, is that you guys often use a lot of pretty loaded references, sometimes theological references. You're name for example is kind of ambiguous.
BW: The original reference wasn't anything historical. It was the name of a guy who did ghost recordings of static and it was just [called] the Constantine experiments. His name was Constantine and it was kind of a cool idea. Ultimately I just like the idea of it being a family name, like the Ramones or something. But that name resonates through history in weird ways. The emperor Constantine was the guy who brought Christianity to the Western world. That was a turning point for the West to become what it was to become.

I've always wondered whether that was a sort of ironic move. Is there an ironic intention behind having that name because I think some people see it that way.
BW: It's just that to me that moment in history is an interesting reference, or that character in history is an interesting point. I don't feel like we [the Constantines] identify with him in an ironic way necessarily or an unironic way. It was just a key moment in human civilization. But we're not a specifically religious band.

There are some interesting moments on your new album, like the song "New King," which you wrote as a tribute to your friends the Kings, who had a new baby girl. But when I first heard that song, I thought it had a very messianic quality to it.
BW: Right. I love ambiguity in that way. I like putting out seemingly incongruous ideas, from one perspective suggests something but in actuality suggests something different. I mean, I think that those connections are ambiguous ones, but that ambiguity says a lot. It speaks volumes about how we receive information.

I have a friend who once said to me that you guys sound more Christian than the kind of bands that use it as a selling point. Don't take that the wrong way, but to me that says something about where your hearts are in your music.
BW: Yeah, I like devotional music. I'll say that. I love sacred harp singing and spiritual music like Eastern Orthodox kind of stuff, and like the Staple Singers. And I'm really moved by that, but it's not because I identify with the specific references. I find the devotion to it moving, or the purity of intention [behind] it. As many ambiguous kinds of things as I try to put into songs, I don't ever want to be insincere. The Constantines as a band are about trying to bring a certain amount of humility to rock and roll, you know, which isn't usually that kind of a medium.

March 7, 2009

This weekend, Women are playing at Winnipeg's Lo Pub, with Library Voices and Old Folks Home. The headliner's self-titled debut, produced by fellow Albertan Chad VanGaalen, was one of my favourite albums from 2008. Since it came out, Women have been everywhere, filling out venues in across Europe and NA. And yet, this is their (correct me if I'm wrong) third show in Winnipeg in less than 12 months. I'm glad they like us. There's no presale, so you better hurry on over because I'm positive this is going to sell out. 8:00pm. Damn, that's early. How did these guys become so popular practically overnight? Oh yeah - that's right. That link right there leads to one of the most crystal-clear pop songs from last year: brief and saccharine. And one of them's a Reimer!

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Currently enjoying...

JULIE DOIRON
I CAN WONDER WHAT YOU DID WITH YOUR DAY
I first saw Julie Doiron perform when she opened for Feist as part of Winnipeg's 2005 Juno celebrations. It was great show. Two solo sets from two of my favourite female songwriters. I was smitten. The only problem lay with a bunch of idiots who wouldn't shut up during Doiron's introspective set. She was quite irritable actually and obviously thrown off by their disregard for her performance. A couple years later she'd release 2007's brilliant Woke Myself Up, which marked a turning point of sorts for her. Just prior to Doiron's work on the album, she began to reconnect with her old band, Eric's Trip (required listening for Canadian indie kids), and started to revisit a heavier sound. The reunion led to a handful of tours and a new studio relationship with former bandmate Rick White, who has returned for I Can Wonder What You Did With Your Day. In the past, I've made the common mistake of confusing Julie Doiron with Cat Power's Chan Marshall. “Blue” and “Lovers of the World” from I Can Wonder... are perfect examples of their similarities. Both songs feature a lazy, graceful vocal approach that wanders over fractured guitar chords and sparse percussion. These days, however, Doiron's work isn't only superior, it moves well beyond those comparisons. Her vocals will forever possess that frail, almost defeated, spirit – which, often as not, is exactly what makes her more upbeat songs work so well. It's that kind of bittersweet sentiment that fills out Doiron's latest effort. Her penchant for introspective ruminations on the most ignorable parts of everyday life is still very much alive. She's still just as endearing as ever (I also recently discovered that "endearing" just happens to be the name of her label) and the grungier sound of a song like "Spill Yer Lungs" suits her quite well. Blending past and present, I Can Wonder What You Did With Your Day isn't only one of Doiron's strongest albums to date, it's further proof that she's currently among Canada's best songwriters. Recommended listening, indeed.

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In other exciting Canadian music news, I'm going to be interview Bryan Webb of the Constantines for Stylus Magazine this Saturday. Judging from the interviews I've seen him do, I've got to ask the right kind of questions or there are gonna be a lot of awkward pauses.

precursor to Radio Scars

To honour the tradition of Radio Scars (an annual drunken discussion in which I'm taking part tonight with my brothers in angst): three videos from the past year that privilege adolescence and blast social perceptions of any kind, because no one understands and they never will because the gravity of every situation is just too much to handle and so on and so forth.

Feel the catharsis, exorcise that alienation!

"The Devil's Crayon" by Wild Beasts from Limbo, Panto


"Kim and Jessie" by M83 from Saturdays=Youth


"Our Age" by Constantines from Kensington Heights

destination winnipeg

The concerts are coming. Yes, indeed, things are shaping up for the spring.  Fall was quite dry, save another visit by Women, and shows by two heroes of mine (Neil Young and Stephen Malkmus). 

Bonny "Prince" Billy will be at the Pyramid on March 21st supporting a recent live album and last year's delicate Lie Down in the Light. The New Yorker recently published an article about this American folk icon entitled "The Pretender," which gives Oldham some overdue recognition for his fascinating, consistent career and dress-up mystique.   

We'll soon be hearing new sounds from the Junior Boys, who are at the Pyramid on April 4th. 

And there's the Weakerthans/Constantines in April, which might give me an opportunity to talk to Bryan Webb on behalf of Stylus or the Uniter. I've got my fingers crossed. 

I have it on good authority that Chicago's post-rock luminaries, The Sea and Cake, will be one of the many fine acts to grace the Winnipeg Jazz Festival in '09. 

Another seemingly too-good-to-be-true rumour about the jazz festival revolves around the Rev. Al Green. Headliner? That would be massive.

 

a taste of indulgence to come

Either more inspired thanks to the usual flurry of year-end blog activity, or empowered by the presence of my top ten list in Stylus magazine's year end feature, I couldn't resist starting things off with the albums that have driven me into seclusion over the last 12 months. Why anyone cares at this point, I'd love to know.

1. Deerhunter - Microcastle/Weird Era Cont

No album this year has absorbed me like Microcastle­, Deerhunter’s follow-up to the one-two punch of 2007’s Cryptograms and Fluorescent Grey EP. Seamlessly paced, Microcastle is driven by a nostalgic love affair with feedback and melody. Beginning with the soothing “Cover Me (Slowly),” Deerhunter’s lazy euphoria finally stumbles into the broken chords of “Activa.” But just when they appear to lose his steam, Deerhunter launch into “Nothing Ever Happened,” an impossible epic that explodes into an all-out prog-jam. Once Microcastle draws you inside, there’s no getting out.

2. Chad VanGaalen - Soft Airplane

Chad VanGaalen sounds joyfully at ease on Soft Airplane, his third album since debuting in 2005 with Infiniheart, a wonderfully dysfunctional collection of self-produced experimental folk-rock. The Calgary native dipped into the same pool of material for his 2006 follow-up, the Polaris Prize nominated Skelliconnection. Soft Airplane marks a new stage in VanGaalen’s catalogue: it’s his first offering of newly written material, recorded with an album in mind, and it shows. Amidst the garage crunch of “Inside the Molecules,” VanGaalen sounds truly content, while the sublime catchiness of “City of Electric Light” and the ecstatic electro-pop of “TMNT Mask” display VanGaalen in top form. With lyrics that fascinate and puzzle, VanGaalen’s chilling voice is unmistakable; as with his other albums, the artwork, like the music, is all his own, always twisted but eerily familiar.

3. Portishead - Third

What more could be said about this chilling assualt on the senses? Everyone makes mention of the long gap between Third and its predecessor and the fact that it sounds nothing like the smooth trip-hop Portishead helped define in the late 90s. Still, I think we all underestimated them and their ability to evolve and adapt. There's word of a Fourth on the way. I can't wait to see what Portishead does next.

4. Constantines - Kensington Heights
One of the few popular Canadian bands that still wears its punk politics on its sleeve, Constantines didn't release their best album this year, but they managed to open up their sound with an added urgency and made some intriguing theological statements in the process. Springsteen eat your heart out.

5. Times New Viking - Rip It Off

Some can't get past the audible feedback "hiss" that carries each track, but this pastiche of 90s DIY indie-rock is an indispensible testament to the incestuous nature of popular music. Loaded with melody, this helps make up for years of disgraceful major-label "punk-pop" sludge.

6. Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks - Real Emotional Trash
Post-Pavement (sigh), but engaging and surefooted - maybe a little too smooth. I don't care. Malkmus doesn't scare me off when he gets proggy and just having Janet Weiss pounding out beats is enough to make this a satisfying "prog rock" album, entact with Malkmus' usual drugged out self-reflexive jibberish - something I'll never get tired of.

7. NOMO - Ghost Rock

With their third album, NOMO had the sound I'd been waiting to hear all year. Always promised, never delivered. Ghost Rock had legs, a jazz record running through post-punk, treading lightly through the afrobeat revivalism that seemed to define this year's releases.

8. The Magnetic Fields - Distortion
First of all, its a brilliant pop album that should be recognized as such -with one of the best female vocalists around. Second, its soaked in feedback and sustains the novelty (the irony?) straight through songs that treat sex and alcohol like sacramental fixations.

9. Wild Beasts - Limbo, Panto
Chris Talbot, possesses a tight falsetto that can soar like Morrissey and a cathartic growl that brings to mind Carey Mercer of Frog Eyes. Talbot croons overtop waltzing guitars and tribal drums that never cease to sound like a death-rattle on repeat. Exhibitionists to the bitter end, Wild Beasts have discovered a cabaret in a cemetery, or in the final words of “Cheerio Chaps, Cheerio Goodbye,” they have created “a requiem in a circus tent.”

10. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Dig, Lazuras, Dig!!!

Quite honestly, this is the first Nick Cave album I've really stuck with. It's worth its weight in critical acclaim, not least for the twisted nature of its concept, the gall of Cave's wordplay, or the uncanny work of the Bad Seeds.

11. M83 - Saturdays=Youth

12. Women - Women

13. The Walkmen - You & Me

14. TV on the Radio - Dear Science,

15. - Juana Molina - Un Dia