Gig: Constantines

Constantines (Ladyhawk / Lullabye Arkestra / Tropics)

The Garrison. Thursday, December 17, 2009.

So, the last time I saw The Constantines, I walked away underwhelmed, wondering if the "maturity" of their newer material was at the expense of youthful energy — or if they're just out of good songs. Even without a couple people telling me I was crazy and flat-out wrong, I didn't want that to be my final disposition on the Cons. On the flipside, I wasn't so filled with regret and a desire to confirm my opinion that I was in any hurry to grab tix to any of three Lee's shows, part of a mini-tour for the band to celebrate their tenth anniversary. But I did have this Thursday night show in my maybe list in my calendar, "Tropics + Lullabye Arkestra + ??". And when word started getting around on Wednesday that the Cons were going to be the secret headliners, I figured I might as well give it a go. Even more close up and intimate than Lee's, you'd figure that if anything was going to make me eat my words, this'd be about as good a shot as you could imagine.

So, then, out to the Garrison. Once I was in and hanging around, I found it interesting to note that apparently familiarity is breeding contentedness, as the red walls seemed a little less strange and dull.¹ I wonder if it's also just sort of a new standard we'll slowly get used to — places starting up since the smoking ban aren't going to have that nicotine-yellow haze of grittiness. You want — ugh — authenticity? Go look at the ceiling of a Legion.

Meanwhile, with four bands on the bill, things were getting underway. First up, Tropics — the duo of hard-hitting drummer Simone TB² and the guit/vox/effects of Slim Twig. As I've mentioned before, I generally find myself in the middle of the road on what's usually pitched as a love-it-or-hate-it proposition. Which is to say I find any of Slim Twig's incarnations to be entertaining when I happen to catch him, but it's not something I'm going out of my for. Under the Tropics banner, the music is abrasive rockabilly noise with the harshest of digital effects accompanying Slim Twig's lurch-y outbursts. What I think I found most inneresting this time out was how my ears found the sound to be... well, more conventional than I remembered. Which could be any combination of three things: maybe Slim is keeping his weirdest stuff for his solo work; maybe I'm just getting used to what he's doing and better hearing what was there all along; or, just maybe, rock'n'roll is pushing back a bit against Slim Twig — it's bloody hard to push the boundaries in all directions all the time, and sometimes the hooks and changes just fall in place in a more conventional way because they always have fallen in that way for a reason — and suddenly you have a band playing songs and not just a series of song-like deconstructions. I dunno. And that's not to say Tropics are suddenly easy listening by any means — this is still abrasive stuff. One working that harsh/catchy dichotomy was introduced as the band's newest song, and had a sort of early Sonic Youth feel and was a tidy sub-two-minute burst, like many of the songs. Just under twenty-five minutes in a loud room like this are probably reasonable circumstances to appreciate Tropics, and I was reasonably entertained.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Lullabye Arkestra started their set with Kat Taylor-Small's bass picking out a rhythm behind Justin Small's keyboard as dry ice poured out over the drum kit. After building for a couple minutes, the pair slammed on the accelerator and set off into the first of their sludgy-metallic duets. Key to the band's allure is that underpinning the musical chaos is the chemistry between the two players, a married couple, who codify their us-against-the-world aggression with songs like the Vonnegut-referencing "Nation of Two". In that vein, their most iconic melding of love and combat might be "We Fuck the Night", which works so well as a slogan it almost makes the song itself redundant. Generally speaking, it all works. More specifically, they're such a great band to watch — bringing extra lights, the ol' fog machine, and a penchant for climbing around on their gear — that their sets are visual treats (not to mention a temptation for even the lousiest of photographers like myself). There was a place or two where I lost the plot, musically speaking, but there was always enough going on that I was enjoying myself.

Listen to a track from this set here.

"Hi, we're the mini-Cons," joked singer/guitarist Duffy Driediger as Ladyhawk³ took the stage. Spouting Vin Diesel jokes and banter about Phil Lynnott, this crew had the sound of a meat'n'potatoes bar band that'd maybe read about Screaming Trees in an old copy of Spin and were inspired a bit by the idea. Amiably chugging through thirty-five minutes of mid-tempo rockers, the guitars occasionally interestingly glanced off each other, but there wasn't a strong animating force here. Nothing to complain about, mind you — they had way more songs under three minutes than over four, so nothing was particularly overstaying its welcome. They made for an intriguing pairing with the headliners, as they seemed to be coming from the same sort of classic rock revanchism that the Cons are headed to.

By this time the room was at capacity and squeezing up to the front. And quite an interesting crowd — a lot of gigs I go to are populated by peers out supporting each other, but this room was well-filled with fellow musicians out to pay respect (and, in at least one case, singing along to several songs). So it goes without saying that there was a love vibe in the room as The Constantines took the stage with a "happy birthday" and a round of shots, launching right into the Tom Cochrane-esque "I Will Not Sing A Hateful Song" (from '08's Kensington Heights), which certainly established the vibe for the night — "P.M.A.," as singer Bry Webb expressed it. That's, like, positive mental attitude, motherfuckers. Musically, though, there was more of a retrospective agenda at work, with the bulk of the set coming from the band's first two fine albums.

Solid rockin was on display with the band reaching back to 2002 for EP track "Dirty Business" and '03's Shine A Light for "National Hum". When first-track-from-first-album "Arizona" hit the instrumental break in the middle, just one guitar picking out a rhythm, Webb grinningly commented, "like Fugazi meets Springsteen" — or, given the self-knowing metatextuality that he swathed it in (within a song itself that is a metatextual mini-manifesto), that should be further enclosed in Webb's own scare-quotes: "'like Fugazi meets Springsteen'". And — "indeed", I guess.

Jennifer Castle was invited up to add some hardly-heard backing vox to "Million Star Hotel", — the first jaunt back to the more recent half of their discography since the opener. There were a couple more from Kensington Heights (and coincidentally or not, these were the least energetic and interesting things in the set) but generally things stuck to earlier stuff for the hour-long set.

For the encore, the band made their only dip into '05's Tournament of Hearts with "Draw Us Lines" and offered a taut "Insectivora" before inviting everybody from all the night's other bands to join in on a shake-yer-firsts rendition of AC/DC's "Thunderstruck". All told, seventeen songs in seventy-five minutes. And a pretty satisfied crowd, definitely oozing the P.M.A.

Given the positivity and downright joy that people were exhibiting, I felt... well, less positive and joyful. Which isn't to say I was singing a hateful song to myself or anything, but I dunno if my opinion was shifted any — speaking honestly, I think I liked everything from their first five years way more than anything from the past five. Whether that makes the band a nostalgia act or me a churl — well, I shouldn't oughtta say.

Listen to a track from this set here.

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¹ In another praise-worthy move by the management of The Garrison, they had the coatcheck open on a busy night, and chose not no use that as a gouge and cash grab. Why in the world should coatcheck cost more than a buck or two?

² Simone exhibited an exceptional ability to chew gum and keep time simultaneously. That's not something I keep an eye out for or anything, but you just don't see that very often.

³ Not to be confused the the rather-similarly-named Ladyhawke, apparently a pop singer from New Zealand.