With the foliage here in the Northeast of North America turning their yellow worst, signalling as it were the start of another long winter, it seems fitting to receive a new release from stalwart Montreal label Constellation Records.
Just like the changing seasons, there are certain things you can come to expect in music. You know every year the English press will anoint someone the greatest something or other in the world. You also know said band will never live up to that. You accept that the best albums are often the ones you least expect (don't you?). And often, the most satisfying are those that reveal themselves to you slowly.
Having said that, it's reassuring to remove the cellophane on a Constellation release knowing full well what you're about to hear. Sure, there are distinguishing differences between Godspeed, Do Make Say Think, Fly Pan Am, and Sofa . . . while Godspeed's music leads to satisfyingly cathartic crashes, for example, Do Make Say Think might bob your head. Nevertheless, though, the overall feeling created by these diverse bands is often similar -- the atmospherics almost revelling in their drawn out exploration, creating a mood and then sustaining it, happily allowing their listeners to fill in the blanks with their own ideas, memories and wishes; like meditation for indie kids.
Fittingly, new Constellation recruit Polmo Polpo does little to rock the label's boat with his first full-length release (after many 12-inch releases on his own Audi Sensa label), and there is nothing wrong with that.
Starting slowly and quietly with "Romeo Heart", the album unfolds progressively over its 47 minutes, and unlike Godspeed's darker elements, Toronto native Sandro Perri's sonic collages utilise their drones in waves, an element further enhanced by wonderfully warm instances of slide guitar. As if acknowledging his propensity for wave-like guitar attack, Perri even samples the sound of water splashing onto the shore in one of the album's strongest moments, "Sky Histoire". In this tambourine shaking song, Perri's overlapping slide guitar work mixes beautifully with dramatic violin strokes and the aforementioned water works. Slowly, and as the song builds casually to fit its seeming theme, Perri adds layer upon layer of guitar work and light drumming, all at once echoing prime Do Make Say Think and the best melodic Hawaiian rock playing.
The song works beautifully because, like many other releases from Constellation acts, its positioning within the album is perfect, its lightness enhanced by the heaviness of the tracks that precede it, though offset by its persistence to linger; turning a potential lullaby-like toss-off into a happily sad and moving piece. Culminating, as it were, with more ocean crashes, almost giddy bursts of glockenspiel, and a violin melody so well placed within its settings it actually sounds like birds flying and gawking over a beach.
This segues to the album's title track, a lamenting drone which cuts abruptly and distressingly, before Perri layers fits of accordion swabbed in reverb and filled with the sampled bits of what could either be labelled a moving crowd or a busy marketplace. Moving from the breezy ocean view of "Sky Histoire" to this almost drab routine is even more emotionally affecting with the advent of a mournful violin halfway through, as if recalling a past trip in the face of daily redundancy.
If you are already a fan of Polmo Polpo's past work, and that is to say, a fan of Constellation's brand of post-rock, this will do nothing to deter you. Often staggeringly complex and rich, Like Hearts Swelling is, though, as I've said earlier, nothing really new. Despite this, though, this release is something most "collectives" would be thrilled to call their own. Considering only one man is responsible, though, it is hard to imagine what he's capable of, and even less possible to predict. As the leaves fall and we wait for snow, this seems a reassuringly good mood to carry us through to spring.
— 4 December 2003
