Bands that draw musicians from other well-known acts are called "supergroups." Broken Social Scene is a supercollective. Ranging from five to 17 members, the Toronto-based outfit includes musicians from Stars, Metric, and many other bands, as well as the up-and-coming Leslie Feist. Frontmen Kevin Drew (formerly of Do Make Say Think) and Brendan Canning (By Divine Right, Len) founded BSS in 1999 and their mission has stayed constant: take a deep love of indie rock and expand on that by making experimental mini-symphonies. Their latest work is not so much a series of songs as it is a musical mood. The infectious cacophony comes through immediately, opening with a rapidly-expanding collection of xylophones and trombones that create Burt Bacharach-style instrumental jaunts, while Kevin Drew's vocals whisper through the melodic mayhem. Notable tracks--from the rhythmic "Fire Eye'd Boy," to the gorgeously floaty "Major Label Debut," to "Ibi Dreams of Pavement" (featuring rapper K-Os)--have two elements in common: all feature expansive melodies and all have vocals consciously (sometimes annoyingly) buried quite low in the mix. However, the CD's highlight (and disc-closer), "It's All Gonna Break," holds the key to BSS's beauty; it's simultaneously far-reaching and uplifting, a near-perfect 10 minutes of music. The limited edition version of this release also contains a seven-song EP filled with some of the dropped songs and an alternative version of "Major Label Debut". --Denise Sheppard
Broken Social Scene
Broken Social Scene
[Arts & Crafts; 2005]
Rating: 8.4
Expectations are a bitch. Ask J.D. Salinger. Or George Lucas. Or Kevin Shields. After Broken Social Scene stumbled out of the incestuous Toronto alt-rock scene with Feel Good Lost-- a postrumental refrigerator-hum stiff of a debut-- few would have guessed this group of scruffed-up bohos had a veritable classic lurking in their collective consciousness. Then, ignited by a rabid internet reception, You Forgot It in People gracefully went boom, and lots of people remembered why they loved indie rock-- the shambling ecstasy, the pitch-perfect experimentation, the unabashed heart-on-sleeveness of it all.
Now, with file-sharers queuing up like mad and pre-orders bumping them to Amazon Top 50 status, the collective reacts to the furor by expanding and magnifying; another six members join the brood for its self-titled third full-length, and the band's once-refined studio sound is blown up into a pixilated blur of blood-gush guitars and squall-of-sound production that's somehow meticulously unhinged. This exercise in excess makes the ambitious You Forgot It in People seem positively understated by comparison.
De facto band leader Kevin Drew recently told Pitchfork that Broken Social Scene producer (and NYPD punching bag) David Newfeld "got addicted to the idea of trying to top YFIIP." He added: "His massage therapist says he might die in 10 years unless he changes his lifestyle." It's Newfeld's risky mixing and uncanny knack for coalescing myriad instruments and voices into a propulsive whole that defines this new album. Whereas You Forgot It in People was exacting and refined-- each cymbal crash snipped to perfection, each underlying string melody was spare and to-the-point-- Broken Social Scene is wily and flowing. Just consider each disc's mood-setting introduction: YFIIP's "Capture the Flag" is muted and tasteful; BSS's "Our Faces Split the Coast in Half" gets out of bed, trips, falls down, does a sloppy summersault, and gets back up no worse for the wear. The contrasting titles alone-- one direct, one Dali-esque-- speak volumes. But, however symbolic, "Faces" is only a casual stretch, with follower "Ibi Dreams of Pavement (A Better Half)" serving as the album's first true workout.
"Ibi" breaks in with a woozy, five-alarm guitar-- a warning call for the track's off-key surrealism and pile-on distortion. Like the shaky ascent of a homemade rocketship, the song constantly teeters on cataclysmic oblivion; shards of chords slip away and grind against each other as the track embarks. Buried between the static and the void, mumbled vocals are folded in before the brass enters and elevates the endeavor to fist-pumping, room-on-fire glory.
That track's garbled vocals and lyrical ambiguity are filtered throughout this record. With no accompanying lyric sheet, most of the album's highly interpretable words not only provide fans with a time-wasting message-board guessing game but add another layer of atmospheric haze to the group's already out-there takes on sex, politics, and that whole indies-vs.-majors thing. On the wispy, faux-idyllic "Major Label Debut", the chorus could be "I'm all hooked up" or "I'm all fucked up," but either meaning snidely puts down the rockstar cliches Broken Social Scene are determined to avoid.
Anyone's who's been to a Broken Social Scene show over the past few years probably knows "Major Label Debut" as a rollicking, open hi-hat dust storm. But here, that version is relegated to an accompanying EP (otherwise filled with mostly expendable outtakes and instrumentals) while the album version is slowed down and fogged up-- and decidedly less single-worthy. Another live favorite and possible crossover contender, "Superconnected", is still catchy on record, but Newfeld's all-at-once, in-between-vox production subverts any chance at overt smashdom.
Such insular stubbornness leads to Broken Social Scene's few overly self-indulgent moments, when their lack of inhibitions turns from charming to faintly annoying. Their tendency to jam out-- not entirely surprising given bassist Brendan Canning's striking Trey Anastasio-meets-Elmo look-- turn the seven-minute "Bandwitch" into an aimless jumble. Along with the similarly too-free-spirited "Windsurfing Nation" and "Handjobs for the Holidays", such unchecked exorbitance damages the album's hard-won continuity.
But a few regrettable overreachings are somewhat inevitable when a band tries to top a record as strong as YFIIP. Looser and slightly kinkier, Broken Social Scene indulges in the pop eccentricities and keen melodic ears of more than a dozen Canadians who take willful pride in their ability to lock together into one solid unit and make good on the sum of their unique individual talents. With its doomsday provocation of a title, the epic Springsteenian endcap "It's All Gonna Break" bursts forth with enough ideas to keep a lesser band productive for years. The song ecstatically encapsulates Broken Social Scene's heightened ambitions and flawed Icarus journeys, conflating into a bold, brash love-in infatuated with its own bumps and bruises.
-Ryan Dombal, October 4, 2005
Review by MacKenzie Wilson
In Canada, Broken Social Scene is somewhat of a phenomenon. Since wooing fans and critics alike with their 2003 Juno Award-winning album You Forgot It in People, the band's peculiar popularity has made them stars. The community that surrounds the 15-member-plus band is a family-like atmosphere with its many Canadian artists and musicians. When listening to Broken Social Scene, you also get the individual sounds of Feist, Stars, Memphis, Metric, and Apostle of Hustle, among others. It's camaraderie and education combined. The lush dynamic that carries Broken Social Scene's self-titled third effort is definitely built upon that. The 14-song set is as bright and moving as the band's previous efforts, but Broken Social Scene holds more charisma, more depth, and surely more complexities. The mix isn't messy in conventional terms. It's artistically untidy without production boundaries. Album opener "Our Faces Split the Coast in Half," which features the Dears' Murray Lightburn, makes a grand entrance with its polished horn arrangements, tight guitar riffs, and hypnotic harmonies. Additional standouts include indie rock moments such as "7/4 (Shoreline)" and the nervy "Fire Eye'd Boy." Handclaps and crowd chatter dosie-do with a sharp rock aesthetic on "Windsurfing Nation," which was the original title. Here, Toronto rapper K-Os and Feist vocally find their way through this majestic cinematic backdrop for one of its finest songs. From here, Broken Social Scene is a simply a rush of mini epics: "Handjobs for the Holidays," "Superconnected," and album closer "It's All Gonna Break" (this could have been a Nada Surf song) showcase how smart, creative, and brilliant this band truly is. Broken Social Scene are more than a collective; they're an orchestra for both the slacker generation and the literati.
|
