Drew Russell

From a sonic standpoint, ‘More Than A Constitution’ is incredibly layered — from the Cuban Cajon to the intricate guitar and string work. How did you go about crafting the song’s arrangement to reflect its message?
To begin with, I think I knew that I wanted something with a real crescendo effect. The song was always going to be a big statement and a call to action of sorts, so I wanted the music to feel inspiring, powerful and moving.
Ironically though, as with most of my music, it really just started with me picking the chords on my guitar and humming/singing the melody over that. As I get into the “vibe” so to speak, I just start hearing all the other parts and components come through. In a sense, it kinda writes itself and I’m more just a vessel.
The Cajon really jumped out to me because my view of it and relationship to it, as an instrument, is one of real community and togetherness. I don’t know if that sounds strange but I’ll try to make sense.
If I’m not mistaken, it was traditionally an instrument “of the people” in Cuba and Latin America, folks who didn’t always have a lot of material wealth. It was the kind of instrument that people take to the streets and busk with. The kind of instrument that brings people together in a very real and soulful way.
That whole idea is a massive part of what the song was about. I wanted raw, real and soulful and so when I started playing it over the second verse of the song where the rhythm really kicks in, it just felt right to me.

The track evolves beautifully — it starts intimate and gradually builds toward a feeling of collective strength. Was that dynamic shift intentional from the beginning, or something that emerged during production?
Definitely, that was a very deliberate decision that jumped out very quickly. I can still recall “writing” the song.
I was lying in bed trying to sleep one night, probably about midnight, when the melody and lyrics just started coming to me. This isn’t very unusual for me. I couldn’t leave it alone, I had to grab my guitar and let it be manifested.
It started with exactly what you hear in the beginning of the song, just single picks of the guitar chords. No fancy musical intro either, just straight into words and singing.
The chorus comes around and I start strumming and developing a real rhythm. Everything you hear guitar-wise and vocally in the song is exactly what I did sitting on my bed that night.
By the time I got to the second verse, I started doing the rhythmic palm muting stuff and at that point it was mega clear to me that I was going for a big crescendo with this song. All the parts just started coming to me very naturally. When I went to actually start tracking the song, it came together super quickly and I knew exactly what I wanted.

There’s a lot of passion in your vocal delivery — it feels like every word carries weight. How did you approach performing lyrics that are as politically and emotionally charged as these?
I’m really glad it comes across that way.
With this song, even more so than others, raw and real were the key themes. I didn’t want overly polished and edited vocals. Harmonies were also slightly more cut back than usual for me too though there are still some.
The vocals had to be front and centre. There was so much I wanted to say and it kinda dawned on me just how many lyrics are actually in this song when I had it all written out in front of me!
As a matter of fact, at times it was actually pretty tough tracking the vocals. Simply because there is very little opportunity for me to actually catch my breath. It really is jam packed! I almost breathe a sigh of relief when the bridge comes round because that’s the section that is the least vocally dense. I mean, you can probably literally hear that breath that I’m drawing – it’s bloody hard work!
But that was also something, all joking aside, that I did not want to remove from the recording. I wanted listeners to hear that it was “real”. Of course, we all know that vocalists have to breathe in order to sing but so much of modern music, pop in particular, seems to cut out the vocalist’s breath.
To me, it just adds to the human element and I wanted that front and centre in this song.

Many listeners have compared the video’s one-shot lyric concept to Bob Dylan’s ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues.’ Was that homage intentional, and what does Dylan’s approach to storytelling mean to you as an artist?
I absolutely looooove Bob Dylan so it was definitely intentional to sort of copy the video idea here but not with the aim of being like him as such. I just figured that the visual idea would be incredibly effective, I hoped, in conveying the message of my song.
The message was always the most important part of this release and I didn’t want to put any obstacle, visual or otherwise, in the way of conveying that message to my viewers and listeners. With that in mind, I could think of no better visual way than a simple one-shot video of me flipping through some bits of cardboard!
As far as storytelling and songwriting goes, Dylan’s approach has always been so special to me. I really admire every part of it.
I feel like Dylan was one of the first folk guys to effectively “give permission” for other artists to not be so perfect and to just say the things they really wanted to say.
I’m always amazed every time I listen to his 1963 album, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. The whole thing was nothing but guitar and vocals with a bit of harmonica here and there. No band. No harmonies. Most of the songs were probably just a single take. You can hear every part of it. Real. Unfiltered. Imperfect. Incredible. And he was doing anti-war songs way before it was popular. Masters Of War is just absolute gold in my opinion.
I can’t believe he was only like 22 when he did it as well. To me, he always sounded like a very old man which was something I loved! Maybe that was part of his allure, people heard this wise sounding old guy even though he was basically a kid!

Your songwriting often blends social commentary with spirituality — a mix that’s rare in modern music. How do you navigate that balance between the political and the philosophical without losing musicality?
I am a big believer that, particularly with creative work, you gotta let it flow. As soon as you start trying to force anything or overanalyse it and think about it too much, you should probably walk away, have a break and come back later.
So, in all honesty, it is not a particularly forced or deliberate decision to write in this way. It just feels right for me and I’m grateful that the musical product somehow comes out nicely! The lyrics come nearly always effortlessly. So does the music. It’s strange, it almost drops in to my consciousness. I don’t really feel like the writer at all, truth be told — just a vessel or a channel. I honestly think I would struggle to “teach” anyone how to write songs because I don’t really think about it. There’s not much of a method or formula to it.
The fact that it nearly always goes in the direction of philosophical, spiritual and social commentary I think is just a reflection of the fact that these things take up my consciousness more than any other topics. It’s what I think about, discuss in my own mind, read about, philosophise about. It’s kinda just part of who I am, I suppose.
Honestly, I think I would find it harder to force myself to write about anything else. I mean, I’ve never been one for chatting about the sports game on the weekend or having a few drinks down at the pub with “the boys” or any of that sort of stuff. It just doesn’t interest me.
Perhaps I seem a bit intense to some? Perhaps a little weird for someone in their twenties? Some people have joked that I’m more like an 80-year-old than someone in his twenties. To me, a good night is a night in reading a book with a cup of tea by my side!

Finally, when you think about ‘More Than A Constitution’ as a body of work — musically, lyrically, and visually — what does it represent for you personally? Is it a statement of frustration, hope, awakening, or something deeper?
I would probably say a mixture of all of those to be honest. Frustration, hope, awakening and more.
As human beings, we tend to want to change things when we become frustrated, tired or unhappy with them in some way.
If you didn’t have any sense that the change you wanted to make was even possible, you probably wouldn’t even try. So, that’s the hope part.
And the awakening is realising that the real change actually came from you, not “out there”. That the world around you is merely a reflection of you.
As Gandhi said, “be the change you want to see in the world.” That’s largely what I’m getting at with the song.
The first point of call in the song, lyrically, is making statements about our systems and political games and so forth as you can hear in the verse, but the driving point is that chorus line, “it’s gonna take more than a constitution”.
The real change has to be a conscious, spiritual one in the hearts and souls of every human being. It can’t just be an artificial attempt to play with the political system a bit more and dream up more laws.
If we only focus on artificially trying to force a change on the “outer world”, I think we’ll be back to square one in no time and we’ll just keep repeating the same mistakes.
So, the song represents all of the above, but particularly, it really is that call for spiritual awakening. And the good thing is, as I see it, it’s happening!