Constantines: Kensington Heights

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.