The impeccable taste and utter hipness of my roommate Luke are quite possibly the only reasons why this isn't my second consecutive month of listening to the Postal Service's Give Up on repeat. I like to think of Luke as the musical savior who drops into my life when I'm in dire straits and pulls me towards the light, away from the inane drudgery of routine listening. Christmas of 2004, Luke presented me with a newspaper-wrapped CD by the relatively underpublicized, Toronto-based band Broken Social Scene, with hopes that I'd "enjoy" their work. As I discovered after one run-through of the album, Luke was a master of understatement. Broken Social Scene's second album, You Forgot It In People, of 2003, is more than an enjoyable disc-it's an ethereal, brilliant, and infinitely listenable space pop masterpiece.
Broken Social Scene is the baby of guitarist Brendan Canning and vocalist Kevin Drew, two Toronto-based art house musicians. The duo started collaborating after Canning uncovered Drew's work with the band KC Accidental late in 1999. Currently, the group is comprised of ten members, most of who have been circulating through the Canadian indie rock scene in recent years. As the follow-up release to 2001's Feel Good Lost, You Forgot It In People has gained unprecedented attention from stateside critics in the past two years, who hailed the band as an up-and-coming Canadian "supergroup."
Don't be fooled by their emo-ish moniker. BSS offers thirteen uplifting, ambient tracks devoid of the kind of sentimental melodrama you'd expect from a group who dedicates their album to "friends and lovers". With music that sounds vaguely like the Mendelian cross between Death Cab For Cutie and Air if the former were Paxil on and the latter on Prozac, you end up with the sort of album that multitasks as the perfect trendy party soundtrack, and performs equally well for introspective headphoners. The opening track, entitled "Capture the Flag", complete with its tinkling electronic tonalities, the central thematic vacillation between three repetitive chords, and the symphonic usage of a muted trumpet and deep sax is an easy entry to the album as a whole. It's followed up by one of the album's stunners?"KC Accidental". These two tracks, considered collectively, exemplify BSS's musical versatility. The group manages to successfully master the catchy percussive lines and compelling guitar riffs that permeate "KC Accidental" as well as they do spacey, delicate lullabies. While "Cause=Time" is pleasingly energetic and hummable, "Lover's Spit" haunting and seductive, and "Late Nineties Bedroom Rock For Missionaries" coolly low-fi (you really can't go wrong with this album), "Anthems For A Seventeen Year-Old Girl" wins this Critic's Choice, hands down or two thumbs up. "Anthems" is an airy ballad characterized by the tinny, distorted, though inexpressibly beautiful vocals of band member Emily Haines as she croons "Park the car, drop the phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me" in trance-like repetition. It's one of those rare songs you won't forget easily, if ever.
I have a feeling my roommates are much happier now that I've given the Postal Service their much-needed vacation. Alas, though, old habits die hard. I now have one particularly good CD on constant repeat. And I'm sure you can guess which it is.