It would be unfair to classify the three albums
leading up to Constantines' new Kensington Heights as rough drafts; those records are plenty
strong enough to stand on their own. But Kensington Heights synthesizes everything the
Canadian arena-punks do well, with rousing blue-collar rockers and tightly
wound, soul-searching ballads delivered with equally passionate, life-or-death
commitment. Any album in Constantines' catalog could legitimately be called the
band's best, but Kensington Heights stands apart as the most complete work. It's also
the most mature, though "mature" shouldn't be confused with "mellow." Far from
an easygoing slice of complacent contentedness, Kensington Heights finds the band pinpointing
its angry energy with expert precision, rather than flailing with the wild
abandon of old. Unlike so many crash-and-burn punk bands before them,
Constantines have learned to expunge youthful frustrations in order to take on
larger, more complicated struggles. "I will not sing a hateful song, though
it's in me to sing," says Bry Webb, in his characteristic Bruce Springsteen
shout, on the standout "I Will Not Sing A Hateful Song." It's an inspiring
sentiment, whether you're pushing 30, 40, or 15.