Four tracks. Five band members. Canada. You will hear Fugazi, And You Will Know Us by the Trail of the Dead, the E Street Band or At the Drive-In. You will read references to Greg Dulli. You will wonder about their cover of a David Byrne song.
Deep down, the Constantines are guitar band fans who can play a bit and who couldn’t give a shit about what’s cool. This EP is fresh, varied and meaty. It makes me despair that I missed the recent Leeds gig. Stupid city – twelve gigs a night and promoters flooding the streets with flyers and posters like the 45,000 students still had some money left.
"Nighttime/Anytime (It's Alright)" rips off right away with ballistic guitar stuttering against some ambient kind of distant galactic afterblast. Big fuck off drumming and a roar of a voice leave no room for faint heartedness or non-committal head nodding. You’re in this one or you’re out. It’s a belter, and demands repeated plays. Two minutes in there's a disorienting slew of isolated gut churning guitar chords and a restart from second guitar arpeggios. Then the big rush to the finish. This is what dynamics are all about, kids.
Bry Webb and Steve Lambke play guitars and Bry Web does most of the singing. Dallas Wehrle does bass and Doug MacGregor is the effortlessly good drummer. Will Kidman is the subtle but deadly addition on keyboards. (His addition means, for one good thing, that the guitarists don’t feel tempted to leave that bastard fuzz noise ringing through the whole song every time).
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"Tank Commander" is more of the haunted same, trailing the Springsteen vocal mannerisms, but keeping the guitar tensions pulled up tight. That keyboard guarantees some aural light and shade, but the aggressive guitars define the mood, with more thunderous drums and some air-punching lyrical outrages like "howling at the moon".
David Byrne's "Thank You For Sending Me an Angel" is Tom Tom Club meets the Clash. It fits in like one of their own, delivers a brief drum lesson and makes the EP a complete meal all on its own. All food groups covered.
"Hotline Operator" is an outlying island of space noise and whispered confession. Keyboard swirls and high hat taps away. Ghoulish samples drop guiltily in as the seven minutes hallucinate past. By the end I'm ready to thrash back into Nighttime/Anytime. But this track does say – "don’t mess with labels, this is the Constantines and Canadians have always been smarter than Americans." No one will be able to complain when the next album stretches out even further.
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