Forgiveness Rock Record - Broken Social Scene

Forgiveness Rock Record

Broken Social Scene
Arts & Crafts.

SCQ Rating: 72%

“You fuck what you love / and you love what you fuck”. Wow, that was the last time we heard Broken Social Scene, at least in its pure incarnation, waxing philosophic like disaffected echo-boomers over The Beatles’ grand finale “the love you take / is equal to the love you make”. As surely as that summation from ‘The End’ is epilogued on Abbey Road by the inconsequential ditty ‘Her Majesty’, I felt the 'Broken Social Scene Presents' series would stretch out the shimmer of their 2005 self-titled album without particular cause. Sure, everyone in the BSS-troupe was busy with other musical commitments but no one was going to forget the collective responsible for delivering at least two masterpieces. Yet the name was attached anyway, to Spirit If… and Something For All of Us, and amid these increasingly diminished returns, Broken Social Scene – perhaps the most ironic band name ever – became a brand.

The “BSS Presents” saga, brief as it was, feels even less rational given how ambiguous this band’s roster remains on Forgiveness Rock Record, the band’s “official” return (and perhaps their most ironic album title ever). Written and arranged by a six-strong group of BSS alumni (among them the crucial duo of Drew and Canning) and newcomer Lisa Lobsinger, this follow-up to Broken Social Scene packs a serious punch with ‘World Sick’, an opener executing dreamy verses and blown-out choruses with textbook precision. By the time it subsides into an ambient wash of dark undercurrents at the five-minute mark, ‘World Sick’ has taken a touristy crash-course of the band's most commercial elements, with pop-constructs that were once tread sporadically and with caution, now tossed into a heavy-handed anthem. The same can be said for ‘Ungrateful Little Father’ in how it wields the band’s accessible cool across their catalog’s spectrum, from deft percussion and warm instrumentation to an aftermath of swirling keys and dulled strings. It’s at once impressive and discouraging, the band’s ability to refine and undermine their history in one fell swoop.

From an indie-rock standpoint, there’s nothing wrong with ‘World Sick’ nor any of the contentious tracks thereafter; these are good, consumable songs from our talented army of Toronto bohemians. Yet “good songs” in the Broken Social Scene universe have traditionally been excused as blunders on the listener’s end, not the band’s, where a track’s brilliance was so engrossing, the only conceivable fault for labeling a song as merely "good" could rest on a listener’s casual short-sightedness. That’s an argument bleeding with bias – that Broken Social Scene, in their prime, were impervious to astute criticism – but there’s no denying that pop was being revolutionized on their prior two full-lengths and a line was being drawn, however haphazardly, in the sand; either you got it or you didn’t. Forgiveness Rock Record doesn’t earn that modern art-like imperviousness to critique because it’s non-progressive. Overly preoccupied with verse/chorus songwriting while relegating their experimental half into massive cracks, much of this record relies on been-there hooks and Drew’s cursory profanity (‘Texico Bitches’) or busily arranged but emotionally vacant blow-outs (‘Art House Director’). Granted, this is coming from the guy who thought ‘Fire Eye’d Boy’, at its time, was too straight-forward but Forgiveness Rock Record feels too measured and engorged to keep us truly engaged.

Similar to how the 'BSS Presents' material used the band’s trademarks without daring any new directions, Forgiveness Rock Record comes off a little exploitative. So it’s not a masterpiece; moving on, Broken Social Scene still find ways to grip listeners with the intimate ‘Sweetest Kill’, the compact energy of ‘Forced To Love’ and the rocking instrumental ‘Meet Me in the Bathroom’. While these songs aren’t about creating provocative pop-explorations anymore, they adhere well to both the Arts & Crafts sound and modern radio's confines. Finding its members, additional members and guests no longer subversive but still super-excessive, Forgiveness Rock Record should be a fine soundtrack to these summer months. At the very least, it's a bunch of good songs.

You Forgot It In People - Broken Social Scene

You Forgot It In People

Broken Social Scene
Arts and Crafts.

SCQ Rating: 93%

In the Spring of 2004, as ‘Almost Crimes’ was topping campus charts all over Canada, I was beginning my first and only bout of Summer School – a studio art credit to make up for a year of anthropology naps. Living in my student house without a roommate to speak of, I’d wander home from my nightclass to find every window black; an apartment waiting for someone to give it life. As fate would have it, this particular night found a burned copy of You Forgot It In People, scribbled over and tucked within a makeshift envelope, waiting under my door as well. In the coming weeks, each project my friend and I undertook – whether it included shoebox cameras, paint and canvas, or pencil sketches – were all completed to the Toronto collective’s breakthough effort; its endless flow from one song to another fit perfectly to the art we were creating.

The raw edges of ‘KC Accidental’ and ‘Almost Crimes’ slide euphorically into ‘Looks Just Like the Sun’ and ‘Pacific Theme’, the latter an impressive centerpiece that gradually proves far better than its elevator-inspired source material. What really makes You Forgot It In People a spectacular summer album isn’t the wonderful memories I’ve attached from that art-affected season, but the sun-kissed freedom it implies with each plucked banjo-string (‘Anthem for a Seventeen Year Old Girl’) or distorted Sonic Youth riff (‘Cause=Time’). No BSS-associated record has proven their power in numbers like this one, as each song melds styles, influences and instruments that only a focused troupe of so many could tightly pull together.

Despite the aforementioned euphoric sensations, You Forgot It In People erupts from a dark and slightly disturbed mindset. You can hear the drone beneath and between many of these sunny tracks; the dense hum of strange voices that cry under ‘Pacific Theme’, or the cathartic ramblings that litter ‘Shampoo Suicide’. If in doubt, look up some lyrics. Like the best works of art, You Forgot It In People cannot be easily-assessed; it's sweltering, dysfunctional stuff, and it's entirely brilliant.

Broken Social Scene - Broken Social Scene

Broken Social Scene

Broken Social Scene
Arts & Crafts.

SCQ Rating: 83%

Take out a scrap piece of paper and with a pencil, freehand, draw a circle without the lead leaving the page. Just one loop is all I’m asking for, no matter how uneven. It’s hard, isn’t it? You have nothing but hard-earned skill or luck to assist you in creating that perfect circle the first time around. Now on the flipside of that page, draw a circle again; this time sketching and outlining liberally to your heart’s content. I can’t see the finished results but I’ll assume that the second circle looks immeasurably better, mostly because you’ve had the opportunity to manipulate any mistakes and therefore cover any regrettable initial strokes. What does any of this have to do with Broken Social Scene’s latest record? They incorporate the same technique as you did on your second circle. Its production is overwhelmed, filling every crack of songwriting with a sonic frill and blind-siding you with a chaotic concoction that is so impressive it must be good. And despite the smoke and mirrors, Broken Social Scene is good, even very good, but something’s off. If only I could get through all the layers to find it…

The third record from this Toronto infinite-piece presents Broken Social Scene at their maximized, firing off all production techniques while managing, for the most part, to keep their indie-cool DIY aesthetic. ‘Ibi Dreams of Pavement’, ‘7/4’ and ‘Superconnected’ are each brilliant; they’re irrepressible, addictive, and developed on the shoulders of You Forgot It In People’s louder work. What pushes these songs beyond that sophomore record is the risks that ensure the radio won’t touch them: indecipherable lyrics, extended instrumental work (many featuring horns), and bloated running-times. I applaud all of these choices as the songs are better off, but that doesn’t prevent ‘Handjobs for the Holidays’ from being a forgettable four and a half minute bass riff. Yeah, there’s about a thousand other elements happening on top of that bass-line, but none of them have to do with the songwriting.

I’m being tough on Broken Social Scene here, but they’re talented and innumerable enough that I can point out what ‘Windsurfing Nation’ is, besides an enormously catchy, K-OS guest-starring, gauntlet - an interlude; the weaving of disassociated lyric lines and musical ideas under a percussive umbrella. It’s a hell of a lot of fun, and that’s good enough, but these instances can’t compare with the confidence that made You Forgot It In People so singular and timeless. Songs drove that album to become a modern classic; on Broken Social Scene, the driving force is style. That said, the Toronto collective have released another blockbuster that, as ‘It’s All Gonna Break’ proves, should be considered for album of the year… even if it’s slightly less provocative than their last.

Spirit If... - Broken Social Scene Presents: Kevin Drew

Spirit If…

Broken Social Scene Presents: Kevin Drew
Arts & Crafts.

SCQ Rating: 81%

OMG!! What does ‘BSS Presents’ mean? Is this a Kevin Drew record or a Broken Social Scene record?!?
It’s both.
Yeah, no rocket science: it’s co-founder of both band and label, Kevin Drew, singing his songs with Broken Social Scene performing band-duties. In the first of hopefully many, BSS Presents will showcase the solo material of varied BSS members, naturally assisted in studio and tour by their bad-ass collective friends (the second volume, featuring Brendan Canning’s solo work, is due June 10th). And while many fans fretted over the future of the band and what this would sound like, Spirit If… sounds like (gasp!) Broken Social Scene – only filtered down to the songwriting direction of one member. Starting with a blissful explosion of drum, guitar and keys, ‘Farewell to the Pressure Kids’ is the best remedy to put BSS fans’ worries to rest, throwing the gauntlet down with the melodrama that made ‘Ibi Dreams of Pavement’ so thrilling. For a record as daunting as Spirit If…, it’s the first of many directions Drew careens us through.

It’s only proper that Drew kicks off this wild side-project peace-train, and he delivers on many of these cuts. ‘Tbtf’ and ‘Safety Bricks’ are very similar as brisk and fresh-faced acoustic numbers (although placed far too near to each other), but repeated listens open their subdued melodies and split that early association (chances are, you’ll like ‘Tbtf’ better for the first few weeks, than find how awesome ‘Safety Bricks’ is). Drew doesn’t play it safe on his first solo effort as ‘Big Love’, with its heavy synth and unsteady vocals, is as confident and experimental as anything BSS have done. Likewise, ‘Frightening Lives’ is unusually dark, hooking the listener with chilling keys and lyrics desperate for sexual understanding.

Where Drew’s confidence becomes taxing is in his uncontrolled overindulgence, which rears its head countless times in this sixty-five minute album. Truth is, every single song on Spirit If… begins with great promise and with such talented performers backing these songs, could’ve been a nearly flawless record. Instead, the breathtaking solitude of ‘Gang Bang Suicide’ becomes a crawl, and the fantastic guitar-pace of ‘Lucky Ones’ becomes a marathon. Our attention is stretched thin on the lo-fi hotel recording ‘When It Begins’ and snapped completely by the plodding, needless ‘Fucked Up Kid’. Don’t get me wrong, most of this lengthy material is great (except ‘Fucked Up Kid’) but that’s the problem; they could’ve been perfect (and by perfect, I do mean You Forgot It in People perfect). In these instances, Drew demands too much of us because he feels he’s giving so much of himself, but as Spirit If… indicates, less could've been more.

In classic Kevin Drew style (in case you’ve seen his live persona), he throws everything into this self-admitted “emotional mixtape” and most of it, despite the aforementioned excesses, is memorable. ‘Bodhi Sappy Weekend’ is one of Drew’s finest songs, beautifully written and expertly arranged with both brass and string sections (all at a reasonable 4.5 minutes!!). I suppose the one way Drew has played safe is that at fourteen songs and twenty-two collaborators, we’re bound to fall in love with at least half of them. It’s a gamble worth losing.