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Broken Social Scene
I'm discovering Toronto's Broken Social Scene belatedly, even though I had a chance to get on the bandwagon several years ago, thanks to a tip from one of my students. But I got sidetracked, put it off for later as I often do, particularly when advice is involved. He had told me that they seemed to match my musical taste perfectly. Often, when someone tells me that sort of thing, I'm disappointed. In this case, though, the advice was right. Their most recent album You Forgot It In People from 2002 -- they released a collection of B-sides and rarities last year -- is a smoothie made from ingredients that have been delighting me since I was a teenager: New Order's melodic base, Sonic Youth's thrum, the sonic spaciousness of late 60s psychedelia, and Pavement's facility for making songs that sound like they're falling apart and coming together at the same time.
It tasted so good I forgot the bad taste in my mouth. I had a really demoralizing experience today and had to make the long drive home shaking with distress. Luckily I'd insisted on bringing New Silver and could blast the record, look at the gorgeously cloud-shadowed ridgeline, and make vows of social chastity that I will surely end up breaking, but which were necessary for me to regain my composure. Yes, I did reflect on the fact that the band's name was improbably suited to my mood. The music, however, took precedence. Three years is a long time for a relatively new artist to go between albums. This is a collective, though, and the band has been touring regularly, so I anticipate that a new record will come out within the year. I can't wait. And in the meantime I'll be playing this one on auto-repeat while I do everything from driving around aimlessly in the dark to standing at the kitchen sink doing dishes.
It tasted so good I forgot the bad taste in my mouth. I had a really demoralizing experience today and had to make the long drive home shaking with distress. Luckily I'd insisted on bringing New Silver and could blast the record, look at the gorgeously cloud-shadowed ridgeline, and make vows of social chastity that I will surely end up breaking, but which were necessary for me to regain my composure. Yes, I did reflect on the fact that the band's name was improbably suited to my mood. The music, however, took precedence. Three years is a long time for a relatively new artist to go between albums. This is a collective, though, and the band has been touring regularly, so I anticipate that a new record will come out within the year. I can't wait. And in the meantime I'll be playing this one on auto-repeat while I do everything from driving around aimlessly in the dark to standing at the kitchen sink doing dishes.
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I don't know that I'll ever have the nerve or audacity to make a full-on "recommendation" about music to you (hell, it takes a lot of nerve just to confess a taste) but I do think sometime after you visited last spring and after our Amoeba excursion that I did email confession newfound love for Broken Social Scene. Not for the lyrics man but for this always precarious symphonic youth of things...
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