Toronto’s BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE arrive with their reputation preceding. Their debut album “You Forget It In People” (2003) is the one widely regarded as the record that helped launch the likes of Death From Above 1979, Black Mountain, Stars and – of course - the seemingly omnipresent Arcade Fire, though there are those who would argue AF went ahead and stole Broken Social’s thunder by getting humongously popular under their own steam in the meantime.
Personally, this reviewer just wonders how the hell BSS can even get it together to record a follow-up a meagre three years on from their debut. I mean, what a logistical nightmare it must be simply to try and get the 17 members of this ‘collective’ organisation under one roof for the extensive sessions usually required to piece an album together in modern terms. Hell, how many child-minders, enraged bosses and stood up girlfriends/ boyfriends must that leave in its’ wake?
Naturally, this being a ‘collective’ rather than yer rigid 4-man line-up or whatever, by no means all members of BSS usually appear on all the tracks together. They’re also liable to call on various influential friends at times (including members of The Stars, K-OS and no less that The Dears’ Murray Lightburn), though received wisdom has it that Kevin Drew remains the outfit’s prime mover, even though he seems keen to encourage the group’s overall identity rather than single individuals out for praise.
And certainly “Broken Social Scene” is the sound of socialism in motion in terms of input. Opener “Our Faces Split The Coast In Half” alone is a joyous rush, seemingly desperate to prove itself, with drums and horns tripping over themselves in the melee, yet the plot remaining clear in everyone’s mind.
And when they ensure discipline prowls the perimeter fence, their densely-layered alt.rock sound is as exhilarating as hell. Recent single “Ibi Dreams Of Pavement (A Better Day)”, for example is a seething pop melange with everyone from Malkmus’s men through to Dexy’s Midnight Runners and members of the shoegazing brigade all springing joyfully to mind en route. “7/4 Shoreline”, meanwhile, comes with a sleevenote urging the band to “write more songs about fear”, yet the track itself is propulsive, shot through with snappy drumming and rides its’ self-imposed crescendos in fine style. “Hotel, too, is a goodie: a polyrhythmic creep that vaguely recalls Talking Heads’ complex “Remain In Light” and revels in its’ own shadowy enigma.
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Tracks like these work beautifully because there’s always a disciplined backbone at work, but elsewhere it’s harder to get a handle on BSS’S seething, everything-but-the-kitchen-sink attempts to shove the Alt.Rock envelope. “Major Label Debut”, for example, totes a wonderfully wry title, but swims and circles itself relentlessly and simply showcases a band seemingly pulling against each other. Tracks like “Windsurfing Nation” and “Handjobs For The Holidays” (!) too, may initially seem wild, abstract and thrilling, but like repeated exposure to the Velvets’ “Sister Ray” ultimately bring on an uncontrollable urge to go and do that washing up you’ve been putting off for the past two days. Oh, and d’you know: I’d been intending to insulate the loft for ages too. Perhaps I could do it now? Sorry, Broken Social… who did you say?
Admittedly any band whose aim is to “make it sound like Bob Seger on acid” (as they note on the closing “It’s All Gonna Break”) can’t be all bad, and when “Broken Social Scene” hits the spot it does so with vigour, daring and aplomb. Elsewhere though, it plumbs the depths of what sounds suspiciously like free jazz to these ears and – preceding reputations or not – there’s no excuse for such offensive behaviour is there?
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