Re: Views On Broken Social Scene's Forgiveness Rock Record

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Broken Social Scene- Forgiveness Rock Record

Some bands are known only for their sprawl and excess, even if they might have some great music to go along with it. Detractors would say “sprawl and excess” are the only reason why people like prog rock bands of the 70s, but even today, bands like Sunset Rubdown and The Fiery Furnaces are alternately loved and loathed for stepping outside of the three minute pop song format. The big difference between those bands and the sprawl and excess of Broken Social Scene is that there is a clear “leader” or two in those bands, someone to make the call to add or subtract this or that element. So when people say they think Sunset Rubdown is elitist hipster wank, they can point to Spencer Krug as a target for their bile. Broken Social Scene ostensibly have Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning, yet Forgiveness Rock Record gives the impression that no one was willing or felt it necessary to pare down this or that song, or remove a few instruments or voices here or there. Restraint and tight running times have never been in this band's playbook, but with sub-par songs and an overstuffed-in-a-bad-way production from John McEntire, it's tough to know where to assign blame.

Assuming we were 'assigning blame' and not reviewing their album, I mean.

As a huge fan of Broken Social Scene's self-titled album, I defend it on the basis of how excellent it really turns out to be when listened to on headphones and with some patience. Yet a big part of its lasting appeal to me is its frequently great songs that aren't always obvious pop tunes. 'Ibi Dreams Of Pavement (A Better Day)', 'Major Label Debut', and the euphoric rush of 'Superconnected' are all memorable songs, to say nothing of the more immediate tracks 'Fire Eye'd Boy' and '7/4 (Shoreline).' Nothing on Forgiveness Rock Record has anywhere near the catchiness or memorability of these songs, relying on lazy, emptily repeated lyrics as hooks, as on 'Texico Bitches' or the increasingly cliched use of arbitrary swearing with the “ungrateful little motherfuck” line from 'Ungrateful Little Father.'

It doesn't help that all of the album's best material is used up in its first half, so that by the time the charming Sam Prekop of The Sea And Cake shows up on 'Romance To The Grave', it's hard to care, since we've already sat through 50 minutes of the album, not to mention wasted two minutes of this song's run time on instrumental wankery. Worse yet, there is almost no sense of flow or pacing to Forgiveness Rock Record to help alleviate these problems. It may begin very strongly with 'World Sick', but it meanders from there with no discernible pattern or seemingly any care given to what tracks will follow what. The whole thing sounds like the middle of an album with no true peaks or valleys to help give the listener the sense of a journey.

If you really think about it, Broken Social Scene were never a pop band. Their members and collaborators simply come from too many backgrounds to allow this, doubly so when their albums stretch past the hour mark and some of their best songs, like 'Lover's Spit' and 'Almost Crimes', are, respectively, a slow moving ballad and a rocker with a somewhat skronky sax solo. But Forgiveness Rock Record contains their least engaging set of songs ever, often sounding like an indie rock band collaborating with a post-rock collective and trying to marry those different approaches. Which is sort of what this band was and is, I suppose, but it always worked until now. Justin Vernon's collaboration with Collections Of Colonies Of Bees under the moniker Volcano Choir left me with a similar feeling, since it more or less sounds like “the dude from Bon Iver's vocals added into a post-rock group's songs” instead of anything that felt like a natural extension or melding of those disparate sounds. Broken Social Scene used to pull this off, using some post-rock elements in novel, interesting ways. What changed? Well, now the songs sound like an indie rock band and post-rock collective all playing at the same time, with no one there to tell this or that person, “hey, man, you can sit this one out.”

Weak songwriting aside, the huge problems with Forgiveness Rock Record are the suffocating production and the added emphasis on instrumental sections. John McEntire is a great producer in many cases—he helmed one of Stereolab's best, after all—but his shtick isn't helping bands pare down their song lengths and layers of sound. Broken Social Scene was already pretty stuffed and complex when it came to layers of sound but it supported, rather than made up for, a clutch of good-to-great songs. Here, the layers either get in the way of hooks/melodies (there are three separate sets of vocals going on 'Romance To The Grave' alone, not to count the percussion, piano, strings, bass, guitars, keyboards, etc) or make songs drag on pointlessly. For instance, what could have been one of the album's best songs, 'Ungrateful Little Father', is satisfactorily concluded around the 3:30 mark, yet there's three more minutes of aimless instrumental screwing around to sit through.

But hey, didn't I just say this isn't a pop album, and this isn't a pop band? Yes, but this also doesn't work as experimental music or even instrumental music. I kept thinking of Miles Davis's Bitches Brew while listening to this album. There was another set of music that had many musicians and layers of sound on it; even if you didn't know the list of personnel and instruments going in, if you concentrated hard enough, you could pick out, say, an electric and acoustic bassist, or two drummers and a percussionist. But the album is a deftly produced and enjoyable work of genius because Miles Davis and Teo Marcero had a strong overall vision of what they wanted the album to sound like, never worrying about stepping on anyone's toes by splicing various takes of a song together or carefully guiding the players to solo or drop back for awhile. There is no such discipline on Forgiveness Rock Record, and that's a shame. Rather than suffer for being too selfish and stingy with parts, the sheer selflessness of this album means that too many people are on each track doing things that serve neither the songs nor the efficacy of the music. True, this maximal sound is sometimes breathtaking and a visceral rush. But, to paraphrase the famous quote, it is mostly sound and fury that signifies nothing. It's as if Broken Social Scene tried to have their cake and eat it too: they wanted to have some hooks and songs to pull people in, but they also wanted to have tons of layers of sound and lots of instrumental sections. It's possible a band could balance both, but Broken Social Scene aren't that band, at least on this album.

It's a shame to see such an exciting and interesting band fall prey to their worst tendencies, but...here we are. There may be some good moments here and there, but they're utterly lost in a miasma of carelessly piled layers of sound and unnecessarily sprawling songs. Not all bands need a strong leader or two to help craft their music into its best possible shape, as in the case of, say, Godspeed! You Black Emperor. But when a band's albums have a 'members and collaborators' list that reaches toward the two dozen mark, it's a necessity. It would've helped if the songs were anywhere near as good or consistent as their last two albums (no, I'm not counting the “solo” releases by Kevin Drew And Brendan Canning), or if they had worked with a producer who forced them to get rid of half the instruments and voices going on during most of the songs. But as it stands, Forgiveness Rock Record is a frustrating, unrewarding mess of an album, and one of the greatest disappointments I've ever had. Musically speaking.

2 Poorly Drawn Stars Out Of 5

Video: Broken Social Scene: Lover's Spit

I had no idea that Broken Social Scene had so many music videos, so I had plenty to choose from. But I'm a sucker for romance and I think this video is profoundly beautiful especially combined with the song.

Album Of The Week: Broken Social Scene- You Forgot It In People

When someone writes the history of indie/underground rock for this decade, they'll surely have to include You Forgot It In People by the Broken Social Scene. Released in 2002, it quickly gained critical attention and word-of-mouth love leading to a re-issue in 2003 with different cover art. Broken Social Scene were the first "from left field" indie darlings from this decade that I recall, and they didn't really sound like anyone else out there. It helped that they were A) Canadian B) made up of a large rotating cast of players C) pretty faceless. I mean, sure, Feist is pretty big nowadays, but I probably wouldn't be able to recognize the two "leaders" of the band, Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning, if I passed them on the street.

What the band accomplished on You Forgot It In People was re-introducing a sense of "hey, let's see if this works" discovery into pop music. Barring the band's debut album, Feel Good Lost, which was more of an instrumental/ambient affair, at the heart of every Broken Social Scene release beats a heart in love with songwriting and melody, albeit often delivered in unexpected ways thanks to experimental elements, multi-layered production, and interesting instrumentation. 'Stars And Sons' has some nice guitar squall toward the end while buried beneath the rest of the sonic muck of the song is a genuinely emotive vocal. The album takes a surprising left turn with the stripped down, acoustic 'Looks Just Like The Sun', carrying this vibe over to the tropical and almost-Lounge music influenced instrumental 'Pacific Theme.' And the back third of the album magnificently gives itself over to heart-on-your-sleeve romanticisms, a three-part gut punch that begins with the indescribably majestic and goosebump inducing 'Lover's Spit.' Melancholic horns on 'I'm Still Your Fag' ably prove that not only were Broken Social Scene working with a wide palette of sounds and band members, but they knew how to use them sparingly and to great effect. Finally, the lovely violins on closing instrumental 'Pitter Patter Goes My Heart' remind you that the unexpected and experimental elements of an album don't have to come from noise and chaos.

While I may personally prefer their third, self titled album, I do acknowledge that You Forgot It In People is the band's most popular, critically and amongst fans. It is an album that I firmly believe is crucial to understanding the vibe and aesthetics of this decade's music, insofar as indie/underground rock goes. And, along with Arcade Fire's Funeral, it really put Canada on the map as a source of incredible music. Anyone wondering what the fuss about this whole "indie" thing is ought to get a copy of this album, a decent pair of headphones, and dig in.

Album of the Week: Broken Social Scene- Broken Social Scene

I've never been an audiophile. I can detect when something has too little or too much bass, things like that, but I've never gotten into spending the money on expensive headphones or stereo equipment. In fact, the majority of the time I'm either listening to music on my sub-$100 Crosley all-in-one record player/CD player/radio or on my laptop's built-in speakers. Not exactly ideal audio quality but I don't feel like I'm missing much. Still, I've gotten really into beer over the last year or so and can see the appeal of extra cost and care. I much prefer splurging on imports and micro/specialty brews to mainstream stuff, taking the time to savor them out of beer glasses and specially designed mugs/goblets/whatever. So I understand the desire to take the time and money to enjoy something more than most do or can; it's just that I don't think having thousand dollar speakers/headphones is going to make good music any better. It may make it clearer or sound richer, but not better.

I do, however, agree with the notion that some music is best appreciated with headphones on. I'll grant that a lot of music seems better when it's pumped directly into your ears instead of cutting a path through the air and acoustics of wherever you are, but I think we all know what I'm talking about: the sort of densely produced, layered studio masterpieces that only reveal their true character when listened to with headphones. Just as beers and wines only open up their full aromas and flavors when poured into the proper receptacles, headphone albums only bloom when you can patiently separate the sounds out and consciously enjoy the various things at work. For a good example think of Miles Davis's Bitches Brew. It is an incredible album no matter how you listen to it, but I only am able to grasp all of its density and layered chaos when I take a seat, recline, close my eyes, perhaps enjoy a good beer, and concentrate.

Broken Social Scene's third, self titled album received mixed reviews upon its release, but I have to wonder how many of those were because the critics didn't give it a chance with headphones. Broken Social Scene is a dense, swampy, borderline psychedelic miasma of sounds. Listening to it now on my laptop, everything seems to smash together into a pile. I still love it this way. It's a fine mess, but it's not the same as the headphone experience.

As You Forgot It In People was one of those huge indie rock milestones of this decade, anything Broken Social Scene released afterward would probably be a let down. That the follow up ended up being a more experimental release, concerned as much with a totality of sound and production as it was songs and hooks, this meant that most listeners would give it a few spins, decide it wasn't as good as the last one, and move on. I always go for the 'weirder, less immediate follow-ups to a highly successful albums' kind of thing, so I love this album. It feels even more wild eyed, collaborative, joyous, and wide-reaching than their breakthrough. Assuming you get the version that comes with the EP, To Be You And Me, you can see what might have been if they had hued closer to the more immediate sound of You Forgot It In People: compare that 'Major Label Debut' (subtitled 'Fast Version') to the album version. The latter is a patient sidewinder of a song, undulating around in an expanse of sound. The 'Fast Version' is all energy and vivacity, a propellant drum beat keeping things going. I like the album version better, true, but I do have the 'Fast Version' on an exercise mixtape. Anyway, I'm glad they both exist.

Actually, I think everyone is simply mixed up about Broken Social Scene. I've yet to get to their post-rock/ambient debut or dig too deeply into the two 'solo' albums from this camp, but I think if you listened to their main two albums back to back you'll see that they're more alike than different. You Forgot It In People has just as many instrumentals and experimental bits as Broken Social Scene has interesting, intelligent indie rock/pop. The latter may be more densely produced and have less traditional song structures, may not be as perfectly paced and compact, but it's still just as good and worth a purchase. Just remember the headphones. And beer.

Album Vs. Solo Album

It's often the case that a band releases an album and a member of that band releases a solo album in close proximity. This can just as often make for an interesting compare/contrast comparison, revealing how much of a band's sound or brilliance is up to that person, or at the very least, how much the band can bring to their work.

Album: Deerhunter- Cryptograms (2007)
Solo Album: Atlas Sound- Let The Blind Lead Those Who Can See But Cannot Feel (2008)
What Say You??: While Cryptograms adheres to a mixture of kraut rock, shoegazer, ambient, and noise pop, Bradford Cox's solo album under the Atlas Sound moniker falls closer to the dream pop, ambient, and electro-pop borders of the musical lands. You might be fooled into thinking Let The Blind Lead Those... is the next Deerhunter album because they sound close enough for unknowing ears to accept, but you'll definitely notice a difference in texture and mood.

Album: Animal Collective- Sung Tongs (2004)
Solo Album: Panda Bear- Young Prayer (2004)
What Say You??: I've gone into this in greater detail elsewhere, but Sung Tongs is Animal Collective's landmark release. This is not so much due to the fact that they were playing on mostly acoustic instruments but that they were writing actual songs--and catchy ones, at that. Panda Bear's solo album from that era takes the same starting aesthetic but goes in a different direction with it, featuring acoustic guitars almost exclusively, and all the while driven by Panda Bear's full range as a vocalist. It may be a step back toward abstraction versus songs, but it's more affecting for it.

Album: Broken Social Scene- Broken Social Scene (2005)
Solo Album: Kevin Drew- Spirit If...(2007)
What Say You?? Though released two years apart, and under the confusing label Broken Social Scene Presents..., the implication was that this would be a solo album, and so it wasn't unreasonable to expect that Spirit If... sound different from the last BSS album. However, I'll be damned if I could tell this wasn't a Broken Social Scene album. All of which confuses me, because it was recorded with seemingly the entire usual BSS crew, and it sounds like the sequel for their self titled album. But, whatever. I'm not complaining here--that album is better than You Forgot It In People in my opinion, and in this case, more of the same is "more of the awesome" in my book.

Album: The New Pornographers- Electric Version (2003)
Solo Album: A.C. Newman- The Slow Wonder (2004)
What Say You??: There isn't as much difference between these two albums as may initially appear. Though The Slow Wonder isn't the only "solo" album of a New Pornographer from this era, it would infect the band's sound most obviously. On their last album, Challengers, the band's sound evolved toward a more nuanced, orchestrated, and acoustic sound--not unlike The Slow Wonder. However, I don't really want that from the New Pornographers. What I want is something like Electric Version, which is a modern classic of indie pop/power pop that gets better and better with time, as do their other pre-Challengers releases. I also love The Slow Wonder though I love it expressly because it is a solo album, which implies something. But I digress. My case against Challengers will have to be made another day.

Album of the Week: The Unicorns- Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone?

This may seem needlessly myopic, but for me, the musical heart of this decade didn't make itself clear until 2003 and 2004. While Radiohead's Kid A released in late 2000 signaled that artists could take major risks without losing their audience or the love of critics, it didn't end up being quite the revolution that, say, Nirvana's Nevermind was for the 90s. Rather, consider 2003 and 2004 as the time when indie rock made itself known as a force to be reckoned with. These two years saw definitive, decade defining releases from big names like Arcade Fire (Funeral), Broken Social Scene (You Forgot It In People), Deerhoof (Milk Man), Yeah Yeah Yeahs (Fever To Tell), The Postal Service (Give Up), Death Cab For Cutie (Transatlanticism), Fiery Furnaces (Blueberry Boat), The New Pornographers (The Electric Version), Sufjan Stevens (Greetings From Michigan: The Great Lake State), TV On The Radio (Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes or the Young Liars EP), and, of course, Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone? by the Unicorns. A truly heady mix of bands, and I'm probably leaving a lot out.

The Unicorns have come to stand, at least in my mind, for the kind of overnight success and collapse of a band that can happen in the current music journalism world. The Unicorns came out of nowhere in 2003 with this, their only album, and it seemed that every publication--both online and off--was lavishing praise upon them. After touring for more than a year, the band, exhausted and (presumably) a bit sick of each other, posted on their website that the band was through, confirming this in early 2005. Since then, two members collaborated on an album under the name Islands though shortly after the release of their debut Return To The Sea one member had departed. Thankfully, other massively popular, out-of-left-field bands like Clap Your Hands Say Yeah have weathered the initial storm better.

While the albums I mentioned above all, somehow, fit under the broad indie rock umbrella, I think that this album helped to define the specific indie rock template for this decade. First of all, it's from a Canadian band, and one of the big stories of the '00s has been the emergence and viability of Canadian bands. Secondly, the album makes use of perky, tight drumming, crunchy-or-very-clean guitars, spazzy retro keyboards, 60s style supporting bass that is mixed fairly low in the mix, and more immediate, affected vocals. I associate all of these elements, to various extents, with the current "indie rock standard" sound. I'm not saying that the Unicorns pioneered this sound, or that every band in indie rock today is influenced by them, but I notice a lot of these common elements, and this album came out early enough to cement it in my mind. Lastly, the album is a damn good slice of what, at barebones, could be called pop/rock, but yet sounds nothing like what we typically think of when we say pop/rock.

Other than the fact that Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone? still stands up as a damn good indie pop/rock album, there's two more things that made it so irresistable to critics and fans. The songs are untraditional in the sense that they rarely conform to basic structures like chorus/verse/chorus. Quite often, they're linear, or quickly jump between sections like the Fiery Furnaces or, sometimes, Deerhoof. Take 'Sea Ghost', which starts with a pennywhistle, adds bouncy drums, crunchy guitars, and precocious, affected vocals as it goes. Over its 3:43 duration, it never once repeats anything. Then there's the studio bantery opening of 'Tuff Luff', giving way to a barely there dirge before violins and fluffy keyboards bring the song to the surface for fresh air. Things fall back to just a molasses slow bass line and sweet harmonies before, again, a full band sound comes in--then there's a quick drum break with a short rap--and the song draws to a close with a repeated refrain of "save us" with odd sound effects and resounding drums.

The other thing I think that people latch unto with this album is its self awareness and referentiality. The album opens with 'I Don't Wanna Die' and closes with 'Ready To Die.' In between, there's three songs in a row with the word "ghost" in the title, a few songs directly about the band ('Let's Get Known', 'I Was Born (A Unicorn)'), and, just maybe, a reference to future band Islands in 'Ready To Die.' Which is pretty meta, I suppose: it's a song about being ready to die, but it could also be about the death of the band and hints at the Islands project. But that's reaching a bit. The only other (non-live) album I can think of that's as aware of both itself as an album and the songs themselves is Captain Beefheart's Trout Mask Replica, which either gives that album another feather in its cap for being ahead of its time or just means that I'm the only one who pays attention to these sort of things.

I'm a little worried that as time goes on, this album will be forgotten or at least not given the attention it deserves. Typically when bands implode after one album, even if the members go on to record great things under other names, that first album is forgotten. While I like Return To The Sea a lot, and it could have easily come out as the second Unicorns album, there is just something joyous and fresh about Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone? that was lost in the transition toward a more nuanced, mature sound. But that's a review for another day. For now, track down a copy of this album and enjoy.

Album of the Week: Do Make Say Think Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn

It's snowing right now, with a nasty cutting wind to boot, and two hours ago a friend informed me that his father died after battling cancer for two years. I didn't really know what to say to him, other than "I'm sorry", but I also added that he's probably sick of hearing people tell him they're sorry. It's these kind of situations where you realize language will always fail: nothing you say can or could make that person feel better or help you understand. Sometimes a picture isn't worth a thousand words, because those words can never fully capture what seeing the picture is like for each person. So, the weather is nasty and I feel bad for my friend, and no album seems to capture what I'm feeling with words, so I reach for something instrumental, because music transcends.

Right now, Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn is spinning on my record player, and it's exactly what I need, like the aural equivalent of a bowl of hot soup. However, I find that instrumental music is hard to talk about because you end up with a series of florid, poetic descriptions of sound that still don't come close to capturing what it really is. I could tell you that the first track, 'Fredericia', starts out with a sound like a whale moaning over and over before little fish begin peaking in and around the whale, finally passing it up entirely and climbing to the surface where sunlight breaks the silence. Yet if you listened to it, you might picture it or explain it entirely differently. Yet I can't think of another, better way to talk about the album, so bear with me if I descend into a thousand word exchange rate for each song. But I digress.

Of all the post-rock bands going today, only Explosions in the Sky can compete with Do Make Say Think in my book. Old standard bearers like Tortoise, Mogwai, Godspeed, et. al. are still releasing music that ranges from "digging the same hole in different directions" to "actually great, but not groundbreaking." Yet something about the melodies, dynamics, instrumentation, and the unexplainable sound pictures these two bands paint transcends their forefathers.

Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn is divided roughly into thirds, and on the vinyl, completely into thirds--the fourth side is blank. Each side is three songs long, and represents each titular "hymn", though the album's sound doesn't drastically change between each. What I mean is, the first third of the album--"Winter Hymn"--doesn't sound any more or less wintery to me than the other two.

The band's sound ranges the usual post-rock gamut from quiet, almost ambient moments to out-and-out, all instruments to 11 rocking. Do Make Say Think also features brass/horns/woodwinds, as well as violin, and--lest I forget--a healthy spoonful of rustic folk/acoustic aesthetics. Which makes sense, given that the band often records in rural surroundings, like farmhouses or barns owned by family and friends. And if any of it sounds slightly familiar, well, some of the members of Do Make Say Think contribute to Broken Social Scene, that monolithic Canadian collective, so some aesthetic traces show up in both camps.

The only basis for comparison I have for Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn is You, You're A History In Rust, their most recent release. That was one of my favorite albums of 2007, but I would have to say, I think Hymn is better. Sometimes a band just nails it, for lack of a better explanation--the songs are there, the melodies are there, and it sounds incredible, plain and simple. It's the difference, to use another example, between a great live jazz album and an average one. There's just something about it that you love and can't explain. Words can't convey what 'Outer Inner & Secret' makes me feel when it gets to the series of crescendos built on top of thudding drums and two-note guitars, rising and falling and giving me goosebumps. It's like...well, it's like what certain hymns do to my Mom. You feel magical, spiritual, and beyond words.

The music of Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn is the music of blinding snowfalls, late summer country sunsets, and the little things you hum to yourself, unconsciously, when you're feeling beside yourself with some overwhelming emotion. Please, do yourself a favor and get this album.