On the first day of June in 1967, The Beatles released a simple 39-minute album that would forever change the visage of pop. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band bitch-slapped the pop world, and for the first time, pop was bigger than silly songs about girls. For the first time, pop was complicated. For the first time, pop was challenging.
In just under four decades, from these few common threads, an elaborate tapestry of musical cross-pollination expanded into a monstrous, multifaceted genre.
Broken Social Scene's two core members, Kevin Drew and Brenden Canning, cut their teeth as an experimental post-rock project in the late '90s, releasing 2001's Feel Good Lost. Fueled by lackluster interest in both the band's album and live shows, the duo gradually began the initial alterations to what would become Broken Social Scene's ever-changing lineup.
Enlisting a star-studded cast of friends from the surrounding Toronto indie scene to liven up their sound, Broken Social Scene found themselves evolving into something much different than the core duo had intended. With their second album, 2002's You Forgot it in People, Broken Social Scene unveiled an awe-inspiring masterpiece of experimental, yet readily accessible, pop music to a sea of overjoyed critics.
Broken Social Scene continues their trend of forward innovation on their third, self-titled studio album. The roster now touting nearly seventeen members, their sound is as full as ever and somehow they manage to keep things fluid, despite so many different people in the mix.
Broken Social Scene opens up with the incredibly strong "Our Faces Split the Coast in Half." A reverb-laden bass cascades over the shimmering percussion as muted vocal tracks collide until the somewhat haphazard instrumentation suddenly coalesces into a remarkably moving track. It kicks things off with a bang and further sets the tone for the rest of the album. I dare you to listen to "Our Faces" and not smile.
With so many different instruments and tracks, what really sets Broken Social Scene apart from the band's other works, or even their counterparts, is the superb production values lining the album. Clean, but not too clean, rough cuts and mistakes garnish the album's overall crystal-clear quality, giving it a definitive personality that reveals more and more with each listen.
Broken Social Scene hits a peak at its halfway point with an astonishing three-pronged display of musical mastery. Starting with "Major Label Debut," a dreamy, moving piece that displays the band's amazing knack for creating vast, sweeping dynamics, the crescendo eventually gives way to the album's standout track (and my new personal theme song), "Fire Eye'd Boy." Capping off the triad is "Windsurfing Nation," which captures one of the more electric compositions on the album. After a minute-long frenetic drum and guitar loop, the song explodes into the equivalent of an aural orgasm.
Even for those who aren't familiar with You Forgot it in People, Broken Social Scene is undeniably stunning, but some of the impact might be misinterpreted. Where You Forgot was a precise, calculated assault, Broken is much more haphazard in its composition, but much more stimulating - the loose ends keep things interesting.
I get the nagging feeling that Broken Social Scene is bigger than pop. Ambitious in its intent and gorgeous in its value, this is the first album I've heard in a long time that feels important, that feels like a leap forward. My parents had Sgt. Pepper; I have Broken Social Scene.
Grade: A+
Eric Feigner, Diversions writer
diversions@dailybarometer.com, 737-6377