Broken Social Scene: Forgiveness Rock Revolution

"First thing I want to talk about," insists Broken Social Scene's Andrew Whiteman, diving straight in to lead the conversation, "is the hilarious idea of calling our new release a 'forgiveness rock' record. Have you ever heard of sympathetic magic?"

Well, that would be a no Andrew, though furtive googling later on reveals it to be a concept described in The Golden Bough, Scottish anthropologist James George Frazer's 1890 study of religion and mythology no less! 

"Basically, Kevin [Drew, group co-founder along with Brendan Canning] is a believer in that concept," Whiteman elaborates. "It refers to how one thing can have an effect on another for no obvious reason. Like the butterfly flapping its wings. He thinks if he can make more people say the word 'forgiveness', that word will have some type of effect; that something good will happen even though there's no physical contact."

The Toronto-born guitarist points out that there is no irony in the title at all, even if not everyone was enamoured with the idea. "I think most of the people in the band were good with it," he explains. "It's just when we took it out to the next layer, friends and family, that's where the problems arose. Some of them were like, 'Seriously? You've got to be joking?'. But the title also speaks of a type of faith and hope. These are qualities that don't have a lot of cachet. They've been politicised, which makes it difficult to tangle with those concepts at face value.That's the foundational, feelgood, self-help attitude that comes from Kevin when he's firing on all cylinders, which he is on most of this record."

So we have on our hands one Forgiveness Rock Record, produced by John McEntyre of Tortoise, and the fourth album proper from the multi-personnel Montreal-based ensemble. The evolution of Broken Social Scene charts back to 1999, when Drew and Canning, veterans of the Toronto circuit, began jamming together – courteously inviting pretty much all of their muso friends to muck in.

The interconnected, amorphous cast released Feel Good Lost in 2001 and featured members of Stars, Metric, Do Say Make Think and songstress Leslie Feist. 2002's follow-up LP, You Forgot it in People pushed BSS to the forefront of the flourishing Canadian indie scene and (at least) nineteen different individuals had played their part. There followed heavy-duty touring, photo and video shoots, media interviews; in fact, every activity a normal band hitting the big time is supposed to do. But then, they're not quite a 'normal' band.

With such a large dramatis personae, and the increased intensity surrounding them, Canning subsequently admitted to internal friction during the recording of their eponymously titled third album, released in 2005. And so followed a change of tack. More recent releases had seen BSS reclaim their identity as a recording project, in a series of 'Broken Social Scene Presents...', with one member taking centre stage. Also, and no doubt boosted by the BSS 'brand', many of the individual members of Broken Social Scene have gone on to achieve considerable success in their own right with these 'side-projects'.

The line-up is, as ever, fluid, but now consists of a core team of six. Almost all previous alumni have had a say in this latest album, with a couple of new faces added for good measure. In fact, if anything, independent success appears on the surface to have re-energised their sense of community, a notion with which Whiteman concurs. "This is the first time in our career of nine years whereby we've all decided we're going to really push the Broken Social Scene thing. Charlie says Do Make Say Think are on a bit of a hiatus, I put my own band Apostle Of Hustle on sabbatical for a while. We all really want to give it our best shot and I don't really know if that's ever happened before in such a focused way."

Outwith Broken Social Scene, each of the respective side projects cover a bewilderingly eclectic mix of styles. Surely this makes it difficult to get anything done coherently? Taking great care not to speak for any other band member, Whiteman describes his own take on the 'reunion'. "We have different methods for making it work. From my perspective it's almost like I get a free pass for every record. I can bring in a song where I wrote the lyrics."

Adopting a Harry Enfield-worthy Scouse accent he continues, "I'm like the George Harrison of the band." He suggests it's not a sacrifice, there's no real feeling of subsuming himself for the greater good. "Those urges, to keep writing and doing things, I just change them slightly. For instance, now I've moved to Montreal I want to teach myself to speak French. I also want to immerse myself in 18th Century literature. I'm a bit of a nerd, so I'll get into studying when I'm on the road."

Based on their individual pathways, some members of the troupe are now more high-profile than others, Feist being the prime example. Although it's probably fair to say the collective that is Broken Social Scene is still the highest profile of the lot, it seems pertinent to wonder if this fact could potentially prove to be a source of acrimony. Whether being diplomatic or sincere (likely both), Whiteman is having none of it. "No! No bother at all. The attitude is gratitude. We are lucky enough to be playing music together and lucky enough to be paying our rent by doing it. Anything beyond that, and I'm like 'get your head out of your ass'. I don't have a lot of time for bullshit like that."

OK, so no rampant vaingloriousness then, but how do all those fine minds collaborate efficiently, decide on the best method of skinning the cat? "We tend to meet up, jam a lot. Musically speaking, there's always room in Social Scene to create and innovate. But it works differently. If it was Apostle of Hustle, and I came up with a hook and some chords, I'd want to finish the song; but I know I'm not going to do that with these guys. Maybe I'll have a melody idea which I bring along to see what the wolf-pack does with it. For example, there's a song on the record called Texico Bitches. That song came out of a band called Human Milk which was Brendan, Kevin, [BSS drummer] Justin Peroff, Spiral Stairs from Pavement and Spiral's buddy Darius. They loved the song so much (and they only did a couple of gigs) so we started playing it. I added my guitar part to it which ended up being the loudest thing on the song and I wasn't even there when they were making it up. That's kind of how things happen. It can also work in the opposite fashion. I can write a guitar riff, go away, and when I come back the strings are doing that part instead."

Drew, and others in the band, have in the past referred to the project as an experiment in intimacy, which with so many protagonists and potential for catastrophe is quite the daring undertaking. Whiteman, however, is unsure what, if any, conclusions can be drawn to date. "I guess it's going well. Here we are, nine years in and still positive. On one hand I could take a certain approach by saying 'I can't believe how much time I'm going to have to spend with those people' but I'm not going to, why bother? It's not a good attitude to have. Rather I prefer to think 'Jesus, these people are amazing musicians. They inspire, challenge and push me to do my thing. I'm going to be working my ass off and I'm thrilled.'"

Giving the distinct impression that very little fazes him, he has to pause for a moment when asked if he is always so amiable. "No, I'm not," is the eventual response, "although comparatively speaking I am the serene one. We can be in the middle of a conversation and I can just walk away, no questions asked. They don't worry about me or give me a hard time and that's a nice feeling. You can be whoever the fuck you really are in front of those people and they're not going to judge you. We're all sensitive people, but I don't particularly like the trappings of going on the road, the glad-handing, etc. I prefer solitary situations and they don't hassle me about that."

That said, he does admit to a recent moment where he's been directly confronted with any cynicism he may have had regarding the project. Last year, a journalist and friend of the band Stuart Berman compiled an oral and visual history of Broken Social Scene, publishing it in a compilation called This Book is Broken, an accessory to the music which Whiteman felt was superfluous. "I was very outspoken against it, hated it, thought it was a silly idea and I still stand by how I felt. But we played a small festival soon after in Houston, Texas. The music scene there, whilst not struggling as such, is not massively organised and labours to get really good stuff happening. Afterwards, a guy came up to me and said 'You know what, this book really mattered to me because it showed me what can happen, and that's partly why this festival came about'. Well, it was such a good festival, I had to backtrack a little and take his point of view. People were genuinely getting something from it and making their own great things. So I put my negative attitude aside and said 'Hey, that's really cool!'"

Broken Social Scene are set to be an integral part of the Festival furniture in July, taking in Glastonbury, Oxegen in Ireland, and our own T in the Park. The group have a sumptuous live reputation which Whiteman puts down to a communal lack of inhibition, and the stagecraft of the ostensible frontman Drew. "Kevin is like the greatest bar mitzvah MC ever. We call rap artists MCs but Kevin fits the bill of [and, slowing down with dramatic emphasis] 'Master of the CER...EM..O..NY' very accurately. He is the focal point who keeps the show flowing and moving; and not unlike a friend's bar mitzvah, he will take the audience to moments that are ridiculous, poignant and all points in between. And then someone gets circumcised, usually in the VIP lounge after." Ha! But Whiteman's not finished deadpanning just yet.

In a final flourish, an acknowledgement of Broken Social Scene's impending visit to these shores, comes a grand announcement. "I really wanted to say how much I love Scotland; and Ireland and Wales. I find a qualitative difference between the 'Brits' and the Celts. Maybe things have changed, but last time I was in England it just seemed to be a nation of Posh and Becks types, everywhere you go. Posh and Becks? It's strange, that happens, then you just cross the border into Scotland and everything's OK. What's the deal, is it simple history? They're not going to read this in England right?"

No, of course not Andrew.