For male vocalists, there is a limited range of places to take their voice if they can’t take it to the stratosphere like the boys in the Darkness. Most go down, deep in the basso, some go to their nose and others go hoarse. Who knows how death metal, gravel garglers survive night after night of glottal stripping? The Constantines singer isn’t that extreme but his throaty rasp is so distinct I can’t divorce the music from the man. Tied to the usual, well-crafted tension-and-release on guitars, drums, keyboards and sax, the singer-man grunts and hurrums his way through who knows what lyrical arabesques. All I can do is pine for a Hall’s. (Terence Dick)
CD, Three Gut Records, www.threegutrecords.com