“But I don’t argue with you-and you don’t argue with me,” Drew interjects. “It’s like, ‘Oh, my God, can’t we just be friends for a while?’ ” “I think we could see the future of us disagreeing, and it’s exhausting,” Spearin quips, looking at Drew. Drew, Canning and Spearin, who started what would become BSS in their basements back in the late ’90s out of the sheer enjoyment of playing music together, were reminded that no matter how much things continue to change all around them, the enduring bond and creative alchemy between them and their fellow BSS mates remains the same. At a time when both personal and political anxiety seemed to rule the day, drawing close those who mean the most felt like an act of renewal.
Throw those many different personalities and temperaments into the mix when sardined into a tour bus or studio, not to mention the web of relationships the band members have with each other (some going right back to high school), and over the years those tensions have occasionally built towards a breaking point. Drew, emotional at the best of times, seemed particularly frustrated by the challenge of trying to keep everyone happy and on the same page-both personally and creatively.īut time has a way of lending perspective to the things that once felt like they might tear even the closest of clans apart. Though the many members of BSS have always remained friends through the band’s many ups and downs, like any big family they’ve had their issues to sort through, often exacerbated by the rigours of touring or recording. Here’s where they do agree: They were, at least at first, a bit hesitant to make a new record. Drew recalls feeling an urgency to reunite following the attacks on the Bataclan nightclub in Paris in 2015, but also insists a call from Spearin spurred things along-something Spearin laughingly says he doesn’t remember. But they also bring their distinct personalities to bear in the group: Drew the mercurial, heart-on-sleeve frontman who rallies the troops Canning the sardonic veteran who keeps his cool and steers the ship Spearin the calm, positive spirit whose studio serves as an incubator for BSS’ musical ideas.Įven a simple question about what ultimately brought the band back together results in a comedy of errors. The three, who’ve known and played music with each other for the past two decades, are like brothers, exchanging playful jabs and finishing each others’ sentences. And the mission wasn’t finished.”Ĭanning’s sitting with Drew and fellow early member Charles Spearin at the Rivoli, a mainstay Toronto bar, to discuss the new record. “With Broken Social Scene, you’re on a mission. “I don’t think anyone in the group believed we finished what we started out to do,” explains bassist Brendan Canning, who founded the band back in 1999 with singer-guitarist Kevin Drew. Many fans figured the band’s hiatus, announced in 2011, would be permanent.īut in recent years, the group-which can include up to 20 members onstage-began to reunite for the occasional live show, and are back with the just-released Hug of Thunder, a characteristically epic new album that pairs the band’s fist-pumping, all-hands-in-the-air energy with pointed but hopeful lyrics befitting our current times.
In the seven years since their last record, lots has happened for the band that helped usher in a wave of smart but accessible indie rock in the early aughts: kids were born, parents passed away, members’ bands and solo projects-including Feist, Metric, and Stars-enjoyed their own successes. What do you do when the world’s crumbling all around you? If you’re Toronto indie-rock collective Broken Social Scene, you call your friends and do what you do best: make some joyful noise together.
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