Broken Social Scene opened their recent performance in Central Park with the song that realistically roped in the bulk of this sold-out crowd in the first placed: “KC Accidental,” the jet engine jam that truly kicks off You Forgot It In People, the collective’s 2002 breakthrough. It’s been over a decade since its core members, Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning, joined forces to navigate a revolving door of Canucks from sweaty ambience in Toronto basements to Springsteen-on-amphetamines excess in major Manhattan venues. With the sun falling fast and a 10pm SummerStage curfew looming, there couldn’t have been a more appropriate song to get people engaged and focused. “We’re here to play our guts out for you, we’ve got two hours,” the ever-dramatic Drew said after the song. The ensuing two hours – in which Drew and crew elicited mass sing-alongs and varying screamed song requests while still getting away with the exclusion of a few fan favorites – became a testament to the success of their previous 10 years.
The evening started with a reliably solid but sound-muddied set from noodle-rock stalwarts The Sea & Cake. The connection? John McEntire, that act’s drummer, served as producer for Broken Social Scene’s latest, Forgiveness Rock Record, and has been either gently credited or criticized, depending on who you talk to, for taming and straightening out the bloated batshit sound of their 2007 self-titled record. On this night, he served as Scene’s second drummer alongside usual skinsman Justin Peroff, almost precisely syncing up on beats for Forgiveness songs and a few others. McEntire wasn’t the only auxiliary member on hand, as usual; at points there were up to six horn players (“Earth Wind and Fire shit,” as Drew suggested) onstage, along with the grandiose triple guitar crash of Drew, Canning and Andrew Whiteman. The more neutered style of the band’s newer studio songs thankfully opened a bit more live; “Forced to Love” stretched on with some dual-guitar shredding, Lisa Lobsinger’s “All to All” spaced out into some synth, flute and vocal ambiance and “Ungrateful Little Father” climaxed with multiple frontmen diving into the crowd, getting passed around and politely returned back to wrap up the tune. While the rock star schtick is nothing new for Drew, on this night he indulged in Bono-dom a little more than usual, with black leather jacket, wind-blown hair, questionable comments about bumper stickers and mantras, and a “fuck the man” rant concerning New York’s upcoming law banning cigarette smoking in parks.
Though much of the songs’ trajectories had changed from those on record, many of their second halves were still loose and moderately aimless – but that shouldn’t surprise anyone who’s heard a Broken Social Scene album. It was almost comforting that, despite the band’s heightened stature as indie-rock crossovers, they still seemed to be just winging it for the most part. Take the trombonist, who after playing several songs with the band, shook hands and was introduced to Canning for apparently the first time. Of course, the casual manner in which musicians roam through the songs doesn’t always improve them, such as in “Pacific Theme,” with its gorgeous simplicity drowned out by a few too many members. The show ended as appropriately as it began, though in a slightly different sense; rather than breaking out the usual finale “It’s All Gonna Break,” the band opted for “Ibi Dreams of Pavement,” replete with a “fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me” reprise assumedly aimed at the aforementioned smoking ban. What made this particular tune fitting was the imminent four-night stand of Pavement at the same venue, shows that were sold out over a year in advance. While Broken Social Scene are not quite on that level yet, it must be quite humbling to know they’re selling out the same 5,000-person capacity venues as Pavement, and that’s likely more success than any of them ever dreamed of.
by Kyle Wall
