This may be one of the most difficult reviews of the year. It's a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. Half the reviews you read are going to praise the Canadian collective's third proper, self-titled album as another masterpiece; the other half are going to trash it, citing the band stretching themselves too thin, that too much is happening in the midst of the album's 14 tracks to catch all of it, even after repeated listens. Of course, I'm going to be difficult and be the margin of error -- that damned 1% that throws the curve out of balance and leaves pollsters scratching their heads. Why are these people still straddling the fence?
All the above comments I've made about Broken Social Scene's latest effort are true: It is a masterpiece, if you measure masterpieces by reputation and assumption. The band's stretching themselves a little thin, if you measure thin as sleeker production, more lush sounds, and overextended musical interludes. But I pose this question: Isn't this what Broken Social Scene has been hanging their hat on since they burst onto the American music landscape late in 2002? This is a band that makes the same noise whether 6, 7, or 15 people are gracing a stage or a studio booth. They're just carrying on their tradition, and doing so with tight craftsmanship even Bob Villa would be proud to sponsor.
But none of this even remotely describes Broken Social Scene.
This is a classic example of the adage 'the more things change, the more they stay the same.' This self-titled gem mirrors the highs and lows of You Forgot it in People almost to a tee. The opener, "Our Faces Split the Coast in Half," is an instrumentally-driven ditty; and while some faint vocals waft in and out of the track, it's the same up and at them spirit of "Capture the Flag," bottled in a jar and slowly unleashed to an ever-growing crowd of rabid indie kids hungry for something bigger, louder, and in your face. The album's first single "7/4 (Shoreline)" mimics the heartbeat of its cousin "Stars and Sons," before exploding into a fury of horns, walls of guitar, and an impassioned choral plea. "Major Label Debut" recycles the dreamy atmosphere of "Looks Just Like the Sun," with quiet aggressions.
However, Broken Social Scene isn't reusing all the same tricks that made You Forgot it in People a surprise hit. "Windsurfing Nation" has a fresh vibe all its own. It's a clever (and danceable) mix of hip-hop, post-punk, and indie ethos. The beats are crisp and expressive, if down-to-earth; the vocal rounds in the chorus are catchy; and the riffs move all over the place, forcefully holding your eardrums for ransom. And maybe K-os' cameo puts the track over the top. Meanwhile, the subtle horns and jazz rhythms of "Handjobs for the Holidays" create yet another classic BSS track. Besides the attention-grabbing song title, the track holds a quality hard to put a finger on -- it's another danceable song, full of understated beats and overstated production; but there's an intangible nature that's layers deep. Not even a drill powerful enough to dig to the song's molten core would discover what truly makes "Handjobs for the Holidays" a keeper. Perhaps the most unusual BSS experiment, "Tremoloa Debut" is a quick, but hard-hitting instrumental built around misplaced guitar slides. It isn't anything to write home about, but it feels as if it's hinting toward new things to come from the band -- we're getting a sneak peak at a new Broken Social Scene that is already moving forward and ready to leave much of the past four years in the dust.
But no matter how much I sit here listening to Broken Social Scene, and no matter how special most of these tracks are, they lack the cohesiveness that made You Forgot it in People, and even Feel Good Lost, something to get ecstatic about. I find myself skipping parts of the album when I'm not in the mood, whereas the previous studio albums put me in the mood for every track just by pressing play. Of course, that can't ruin an album full of noticeable indie hits and diamonds in the rough -- just hinder it. Like any album, the true test will lie in its shelf life. Will I be pulling this out six months from now, twelve months from now, five years from now? It may be unfair to compare this to their heralded masterpiece of 2002; but when a band makes such a stunning album, everything else they release is going to be thrown up against the wall and scrutinized top to bottom just for the sake of tearing it apart. It's impossible to completely deconstruct Broken Social Scene's self-titled, however, and that may be why you should ignore the upcoming lofty praises and put-downs and just listen for yourself. You owe the band that much.
This may be one of the most difficult reviews of the year. It's a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. Half the reviews you read are going to praise the Canadian collective's third proper, self-titled album as another masterpiece; the other half are going to trash it, citing the band stretching themselves too thin, that too much is happening in the midst of the album's 14 tracks to catch all of it, even after repeated listens. Of course, I'm going to be difficult and be the margin of error -- that damned 1% that throws the curve out of balance and leaves pollsters scratching their heads. Why are these people still straddling the fence?
All the above comments I've made about Broken Social Scene's latest effort are true: It is a masterpiece, if you measure masterpieces by reputation and assumption. The band's stretching themselves a little thin, if you measure thin as sleeker production, more lush sounds, and overextended musical interludes. But I pose this question: Isn't this what Broken Social Scene has been hanging their hat on since they burst onto the American music landscape late in 2002? This is a band that makes the same noise whether 6, 7, or 15 people are gracing a stage or a studio booth. They're just carrying on their tradition, and doing so with tight craftsmanship even Bob Villa would be proud to sponsor.
But none of this even remotely describes Broken Social Scene.
This is a classic example of the adage 'the more things change, the more they stay the same.' This self-titled gem mirrors the highs and lows of You Forgot it in People almost to a tee. The opener, "Our Faces Split the Coast in Half," is an instrumentally-driven ditty; and while some faint vocals waft in and out of the track, it's the same up and at them spirit of "Capture the Flag," bottled in a jar and slowly unleashed to an ever-growing crowd of rabid indie kids hungry for something bigger, louder, and in your face. The album's first single "7/4 (Shoreline)" mimics the heartbeat of its cousin "Stars and Sons," before exploding into a fury of horns, walls of guitar, and an impassioned choral plea. "Major Label Debut" recycles the dreamy atmosphere of "Looks Just Like the Sun," with quiet aggressions.
However, Broken Social Scene isn't reusing all the same tricks that made You Forgot it in People a surprise hit. "Windsurfing Nation" has a fresh vibe all its own. It's a clever (and danceable) mix of hip-hop, post-punk, and indie ethos. The beats are crisp and expressive, if down-to-earth; the vocal rounds in the chorus are catchy; and the riffs move all over the place, forcefully holding your eardrums for ransom. And maybe K-os' cameo puts the track over the top. Meanwhile, the subtle horns and jazz rhythms of "Handjobs for the Holidays" create yet another classic BSS track. Besides the attention-grabbing song title, the track holds a quality hard to put a finger on -- it's another danceable song, full of understated beats and overstated production; but there's an intangible nature that's layers deep. Not even a drill powerful enough to dig to the song's molten core would discover what truly makes "Handjobs for the Holidays" a keeper. Perhaps the most unusual BSS
experiment, "Tremoloa Debut" is a quick, but hard-hitting instrumental built around misplaced guitar slides. It isn't anything to write home about, but it feels as if it's hinting toward new things to come from the band -- we're getting a sneak peak at a new Broken Social Scene that is already moving forward and ready to leave much of the past four years in the dust.
But no matter how much I sit here listening to Broken Social Scene, and no matter how special most of these tracks are, they lack the cohesiveness that made You Forgot it in People, and even Feel Good Lost, something to get ecstatic about. I find myself skipping parts of the album when I'm not in the mood, whereas the previous studio albums put me in the mood for every track just by pressing play. Of course, that can't ruin an album full of noticeable indie hits and diamonds in the rough -- just hinder it. Like any album, the true test will lie in its shelf life. Will I be pulling this out six months from now, twelve months from now, five years from now? It may be unfair to compare this to their heralded masterpiece of 2002; but when a band makes such a stunning album, everything else they release is going to be thrown up against the wall and scrutinized top to bottom just for the sake of tearing it apart. It's impossible to completely deconstruct Broken Social Scene's
self-titled, however, and that may be why you should ignore the upcoming lofty praises and put-downs and just listen for yourself. You owe the band that much.
1. Our Faces Split the Coast in Half
2. Ibi Dreams of Pavement (A Better Day)
3. 7/4 (Shoreline)
4. Finish Your Collapse and Stay for Breakfast
5. Major Label Debut
6. Fire Eye'd Boy
7. Windsurfing Nation
8. Swimmers
9. Hotel
10. Handjobs for the Holidays
11. Superconnected
12. Bandwitch
13. Tremoloa Debut
14. It's All Gonna Break
More about: Broken Social Scene
