(t5!) Heroes Of The Zeroes Albums: #28: Broken Social Scene – Broken Social Scene (2005)

There’s a buffet restaurant in Edmonton that I used to love going. Like any buffet restaurants, you’re given unlimited amounts of great to so-so quality of food—Caesar salad, sweet & sour pork, fried rice, baked macaroni, chow mein, deep fried chicken wings, spring rolls, ice cream sundae, the works. You won’t go home from the restaurant satiated if you only ate the ginger beef. You overindulge because (1) it’s just good economics to get the most out of your money and (2) you don’t actually plan on going there often so you try to sample everything you possibly can.

You sort of see the parallel with Broken Social Scene’s self-titled sophomore LP; you would be an absolute glut to take this all in, if it all wasn’t so delicious going down. The enormous Canadian indie rock faction, piloted by founders Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning, have ballooned themselves (19 is the official number of members, I think), corroborating to the adage that “the more the merrier”. Just like in the album that preceded it, You Forgot It In People, they fused the many voices, instruments and influences to form a massive concoction. Broken Social Scene differs from the debut in one way though: the pop melodies in the self-titled album are clouded with luxuriant noise; experiencing it is like driving through a thick fog on a summery morning. “Windsurfing Nation”, which also happens to be the album’s original title, starts with a galloping combination of snares, guitars, electronic blips, every single band member mumbling something, then out comes K-Os to perform a quick rap verse, then Feist or Amy Millan (Wikipedia won’t tell me which one it is) show up to sing a note mid-orgasm. With all these elements at once, it shouldn’t work. But, work, it does.

The pop melodies, regardless if you can descry it amidst the clutter, are some of the catchiest melodies the congregation has ever written. Drew’s drunken tenor in “Ibi Dreams Of Pavement (A Better Half)” flows like a sinusoidal wave in a blizzard of raucous instrumentation. Feist in “7/4 (Shoreline)” is a sparkle within the confines of the major 7th chords and the atypical time signature. Andrew Whiteman in “Fire Eye’d Boy” is anthemic surrounded by 16-beat hi-hats and inexhaustible amount of breezy guitars. Drew, again, in the self-proclaimed indie dance party “Hotel” is cheerfully high-pitched with the luscious bass line and glorious brass section. The heavy texture does make Broken Social Scene exceptional, but never forget that these songs have the ability to attach to the tiny hairs of your ears for days. Re-release every track here as torch songs, as tunes accompanied only by an unassuming acoustic guitar, and it will still excite.

One-time U.S. president, part-time saxophonist, and all-time ladies’ man, Bill Clinton once said about Canada, “in a world darkened by ethnic conflicts that tear nations apart, Canada stands as a model of how people of different cultures can live and work together in peace, prosperity, and mutual respect.” Isn’t that what Broken Social Scene is all about? Masterly artists from different corners of the Great White North putting aside their egos—a task easier said than done these days—to construct timeless music? Well, according to that statement, Broken Social Scene represents what being Canadian is all about. I say they never stop increasing their size. They should recruit more members, like Spencer Krug of Wolf Parade and his dissonant keyboard, Owen Pallett and his whimsical violin, Caribou and his electronic accoutrements, former Junior Boy Johnny Dark and his Timbaland-ish drum machines, Bryan Adams raspy vocals, and Avril Lavigne’s punk leanings. Fill the plate as much as it can hold.