This September, Broken Social Scene are hitting the road — featuring one singular stop in their home country, by the way — to celebrate 20 years of You Forgot It in People, their seminal sophomore record that meant (and still means) a whole lot to a whole lot of people. Arriving that same month is Broken Social Scene: You Forgot It in People, The Graphic Novel, a series of intertwining illustrated vignettes inspired by the album — expect tears, angst, maybe a few laughs, and a hearty helping of horniness.
With all this misty-eyed reminiscence and nostalgic reinterpretation coming our way, we decided to do some of our own — revisiting Broken Social Scene's intimidating sprawl to decide, once and for all, their 20 greatest songs. From sweat-soaked instrumentals and tender ballads to fire-breathing anthems and towering odes to love and loss and friendship, we combed through one of the most bewildering and beautiful catalogues in indie rock and came out the other side with this list.
Here are Broken Social Scene's 20 best songs ranked.
20. "Stars and Sons"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
There are plenty of mid-aughts forum posts on cultural institutions like SongMeanings.com that attempt to analyze "Stars and Sons" (and every BSS song, frankly). Is the repetition of "This one will know how far to live on" line supposed to be nihilistic? Is red just Brendan Canning's favourite colour? Who knows, and who cares: all existential theories are certainly supported by the purposeful monotony of Canning's breathless, warbling delivery, and that treacly, oscillating bassline that crescendos into an unremitting blitz of handclaps.
Megan LaPierre
19. "Forced to Love"
Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)
For their first decade, Broken Social Scene pretended really hard not to be a traditional rock band, hiding behind their sprawling membership, fluid roles and ambient patter. On their fourth album, they couldn't hide it anymore, finally paring everything down and pushing melodies to the front. No song puts the Rock in Forgiveness Rock Record quite like "Forced to Love": Kevin Drew confidently takes the mic with his bandmates behind him; Paul Von Mertens's flute hook is so infectious, the guitars can't help but join in; and, of the very few guitar solos in BSS's discography, this track has two of them, both rippers.
Matt Bobkin
18. "Stay Happy"
Hug of Thunder (2017)
Hug of Thunder is great for a lot of reasons, one of which being the presence of Ariel Engle. A relative newcomer to the band, Engle emerged as a serious MVP on the 2017 outing — her voice, so rich and malleable and full of a bottomless warmth and enviable cool, helped ignite Hug of Thunder's powder keg of burly, glitter-bomb songs. That's nowhere more true than on "Stay Happy," where Engle muscles her way through thunderous horns, cracking drums and a serious bass groove and emerges, somehow, as the song's most memorable piece. Her bouncy pop- and R&B-minded delivery has helped steer the band in a fresher and more buoyant direction, and "Stay Happy" might just be her greatest contribution.
Kaelen Bell
17. "Superconnected"
Broken Social Scene (2005)
Broken Social Scene can tap into a particular kind of quiet delicacy, but they never sound more themselves than when they forget about the brakes completely. "Superconnected" is all blistering forward momentum and heart-palpitating fury, the kind of song that the band does like no other. After positing that "art can fail you" in the song's first minute, Kevin Drew and co. prove with the rest of these four-and-a-half minutes that it's also capable of the opposite — riding its tidal wave of sound, you'd swear you were capable of anything.
Kaelen Bell
16. "Death Cock"
Old Dead Young: B-Sides and Rarities (2022)
We wouldn't be writing this list if not for "Death Cock," the first song the band recorded with Dave Newfeld, who would produce their two breakthrough albums. A eulogy for Kevin Drew's pet gerbil intended for a scrapped compilation album, it's the sound of a community coming together in real time as warm snare hits and melancholic horns wrap themselves around Drew's wavering, mourning vocals. Fitting that the band's most potent ode to death came back from the great beyond: after appearing on a rare promo CD and as a B-side to the "7/4 (Shoreline)" CD single, it was revived on the Arts & Crafts 10th anniversary compilation in 2013 and finally found a home among its siblings earlier this year on BSS's latest rarities collection.
Matt Bobkin
15. "Ibi Dreams of Pavement (A Better Day)"
Broken Social Scene (2005)
Existing somewhere between post rock abstraction and orchestral pomp, "Ibi Dreams of Pavement (A Better Day)" begins at a crescendo and only goes up from there. The guitars squall, the thunderous drums propel ever-upward, and the howled vocals sound more like a glorious payoff rather than a first verse. But it's in the final passage that the song really gets going, a triumphant brass figure leading the band in a victory parade march to the finish.
Alex Hudson
14. "Vanity Pail Kids"
Hug of Thunder (2017)
Hug of Thunder didn't have to be as good as it was, and a big part of the album's success is because of songs like "Vanity Pail Kids." Pushing the band's sound into bigger, more aggressive places, the ferocity running through the pounding drums and wild-eyed wailing is what made their fifth record so much more than a victory lap. In classic BSS form, the song is built on lyrics that are silly until they're not, words sung with such conviction that they become a rallying cry. It may not be entirely clear what "You wanna be the size of your sex / You wanna be the size of your mess / You wanna be the size of what's next" actually means, but it means something, and sometimes that's enough to get you on your feet.
Kaelen Bell
11. "Swimmers"
Broken Social Scene (2005)
By now, you've probably been wondering where Emily Haines is, but rest assured, this is merely her first appearance on this list. Of her storied BSS contributions, "Swimmers" is an understated gem, and her coy musings on the messiness of young adulthood aim directly for the heart. "If you always get up late / You're never gonna be on time" is advice that's so obvious it's useful (a digestible mantra for the many of us who struggle with executive function), and the swirl of percussion, bass and trumpets provide the perfect amount of release for a song about minute observations and the small, personal victories of figuring out who you are and what turns you on (and, just as crucially, what turns you off).
Matt Bobkin
10. "Can't Find My Heart"
Let's Try the After (Vol. 2) (2019)
The undeniable highlight from 2019's pair of Let's Try the After EPs, "Can't Find My Heart" finds its vitality and warmth as soon as the introductory oh-ohs kick in. Driven by a seething heatwave of guitar and the canorous saxophone riff punctuating each verse couplet, it doesn't reinvent the wheel, harkening back to the heyday of larger-than-life indie rock that's both accessible and incalculable.
Megan LaPierre
9. "Cause = Time"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
Broken Social Scene aren't a lyrics band. With lines about "menstruating disguise," "fornication crimes" and vague references to religion, it's hard to make heads or tails of "Cause = Time." But with a steadily clacking groove, a gorgeous wash of shimmering guitars and a euphoric guitar hook that sounds like it's reaching for the highest possible note on the fretboard, the song pushes past meaning into pure feeling, making its non-sequiturs sound practically profound.
Alex Hudson
8. "All to All"
Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)
Explicitly calling forth the central theme of Forgiveness Rock Record, it's the only song in the catalogue featuring Lisa Lobsinger — who began her touring residency with the collective in 2005 — on lead vocals, grounding its frenetic energy with her gossamer touch. The interplay with the title's soundalike in "ultimatum" playfully revels in the melodicism of language, like the winking staccato pluck at the fore of the mix while the rest of the string section bows elegantly.
Megan LaPierre
7. "Hug of Thunder"
Hug of Thunder (2017)
Talk about delayed gratification. It took Broken Social Scene seven years to follow up 2010's Forgiveness Rock Record — and that same sense of patience is applied to Hug of Thunder's simmering title track, which takes half of its five-minute runtime to get to the chorus. There's a minimal bassline, Feist singing in a quiet mumble, and a patchwork of atmospheric background effects. But just when it seems like the song might drift along as one of BSS's vibe-y ballads, the enormous chorus swoops in, lifting it into a blissful ether of angelic harmonies.
Alex Hudson
6. "Lover's Spit"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
An epic in vignettes, "Lover's Spit" harnesses something quintessential about Broken Social Scene — a band with an unabashed reliance on repetition, but a masterful ability to recontextualize the same words in the ebb and flow of their arrangements until they're made anew. A song fit to live many lives, the "Redux" restoration on Bee Hives aptly samples the whoosh of a jumbo jet, catching air from a delicate Feist piano ballad to call back to the percussive density of the original.
Megan LaPierre
5. "Fire Eye'd Boy"
Broken Social Scene (2005)
So many of Broken Social Scene's best songs deal in the orchestral swell, gradually adding elements as the full depth of their emotional wellsprings slowly come into view. "Fire Eye'd Boy" instead shows its hand from the opening bar, when the guitar first does that little yoink!, and it's all the better for it. It's four minutes of nothing but payoff, where the band known for baring life's chaos front and centre choose here to emit nothing but ecstasy and jubilance — and for those who can't do without a good build, there's one just for you in the bridge.
Matt Bobkin
4. "Sentimental X's"
Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)
What would Broken Social Scene be without Emily Haines? Undoubtedly they'd still be great, but in a band made up of so many individual gravitational forces, hers feels the most grounding. Her presence condenses all the fireworks and volcanic eruptions of BSS into a single dancing flame, and "Sentimental X's" — sung alongside fellow slow-burn powerhouses Feist and Amy Millan — is one of the greatest examples of that unwavering warmth. In many ways it feels like a sequel to the pimple-faced majesty of "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl," sung from further down the road, when the jealousy's turned to forgiveness and the pounding of your heartbeat has softened to a flutter. It's also a message from the band to itself, an ode to togetherness and reconnection. "All for one and one for all / Friend, a friend you used to call" — relationships transform, bandmates let go and join hands again, people change and remain the same. Through it all, some piece of love remains.
Kaelen Bell
3. "Almost Crimes"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
As the first big rock anthem from their breakthrough album, "Almost Crimes" marked the moment Broken Social Scene proved they can conquer a crowd. Even if you haven't yet seen the music video, it's impossible to hear Feist and Kevin Drew trading lines without seeing them squaring off in your mind's eye, accumulating kinetic energy with each swap of the mic before it all bursts into a rapturous finale. It directly spells out the band's heart-on-sleeve, emotionally maximal modus operandi musically and, uncommonly for BSS, lyrically, as Feist portends the band's inevitable success ("I told you, we'd make it") while spelling out the ethos that will drive them there ("We've got love and hate, it's the only way").
Matt Bobkin
2. "7/4 (Shoreline)"
Broken Social Scene (2005)
Naming a song "7/4" feels like an exercise in music theory, drawing attention to the fact that this standout track from Broken Social Scene is in an extremely awkward, counterintuitive time signature. (For those not familiar with the theory: basically every popular rock song is in 4/4 timing, which means each bar counts to four, and a handful are in 3/4 or 6/8. Almost nothing is in 7/4.) It's practically an act of wizardry that "7/4 (Shoreline)" not only settles into its weird rhythm but practically grooves, as drummer Justin Peroff locks into the herky-jerky guitar figure and cleverly marks the end of each bar with an open hi-hat. With verses that flip between feather-soft harmonies and Feist's aerobic yelps, a curious bridge that plays at a lower volume, and an absolutely thunderous crescendo of maximalist horns, the end result isn't about cerebral music theory — it's pure cathartic release.
Alex Hudson
1. "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
Broken Social Scene want to change your life. Their unwieldy catalogue is made for jumping and thrashing and giggling and weeping, designed to pull some small thing from deep inside you, magnify it to blinding proportions, and leave you forever shifted. But if they'd only ever managed to record one song — if all they were given was four-minutes-and-change to fulfill that transformative purpose — then "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl" says it all. It's the sound of your first nervy night-ride in your parent's car; the sound of being in pained, jealous love with your best friend; the sound of a night sky, of growing bones and growing older and losing pieces of yourself in order to gain new ones. Emily Haines's pitch-shifting vocals are a dispatch from deep space, an alien benevolence that grows with patient urgency and asks that you remember how it feels to be so alive and stupid and fearful and brave. You can't ever recapture that teenage feeling, but in this magic swirl of banjo and strings and big, big emotion, you'll swear it's there — if just for a moment — somewhere behind your ribcage.
Kaelen Bell
With all this misty-eyed reminiscence and nostalgic reinterpretation coming our way, we decided to do some of our own — revisiting Broken Social Scene's intimidating sprawl to decide, once and for all, their 20 greatest songs. From sweat-soaked instrumentals and tender ballads to fire-breathing anthems and towering odes to love and loss and friendship, we combed through one of the most bewildering and beautiful catalogues in indie rock and came out the other side with this list.
Here are Broken Social Scene's 20 best songs ranked.
20. "Stars and Sons"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
There are plenty of mid-aughts forum posts on cultural institutions like SongMeanings.com that attempt to analyze "Stars and Sons" (and every BSS song, frankly). Is the repetition of "This one will know how far to live on" line supposed to be nihilistic? Is red just Brendan Canning's favourite colour? Who knows, and who cares: all existential theories are certainly supported by the purposeful monotony of Canning's breathless, warbling delivery, and that treacly, oscillating bassline that crescendos into an unremitting blitz of handclaps.
Megan LaPierre
19. "Forced to Love"
Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)
For their first decade, Broken Social Scene pretended really hard not to be a traditional rock band, hiding behind their sprawling membership, fluid roles and ambient patter. On their fourth album, they couldn't hide it anymore, finally paring everything down and pushing melodies to the front. No song puts the Rock in Forgiveness Rock Record quite like "Forced to Love": Kevin Drew confidently takes the mic with his bandmates behind him; Paul Von Mertens's flute hook is so infectious, the guitars can't help but join in; and, of the very few guitar solos in BSS's discography, this track has two of them, both rippers.
Matt Bobkin
18. "Stay Happy"
Hug of Thunder (2017)
Hug of Thunder is great for a lot of reasons, one of which being the presence of Ariel Engle. A relative newcomer to the band, Engle emerged as a serious MVP on the 2017 outing — her voice, so rich and malleable and full of a bottomless warmth and enviable cool, helped ignite Hug of Thunder's powder keg of burly, glitter-bomb songs. That's nowhere more true than on "Stay Happy," where Engle muscles her way through thunderous horns, cracking drums and a serious bass groove and emerges, somehow, as the song's most memorable piece. Her bouncy pop- and R&B-minded delivery has helped steer the band in a fresher and more buoyant direction, and "Stay Happy" might just be her greatest contribution.
Kaelen Bell
17. "Superconnected"
Broken Social Scene (2005)
Broken Social Scene can tap into a particular kind of quiet delicacy, but they never sound more themselves than when they forget about the brakes completely. "Superconnected" is all blistering forward momentum and heart-palpitating fury, the kind of song that the band does like no other. After positing that "art can fail you" in the song's first minute, Kevin Drew and co. prove with the rest of these four-and-a-half minutes that it's also capable of the opposite — riding its tidal wave of sound, you'd swear you were capable of anything.
Kaelen Bell
16. "Death Cock"
Old Dead Young: B-Sides and Rarities (2022)
We wouldn't be writing this list if not for "Death Cock," the first song the band recorded with Dave Newfeld, who would produce their two breakthrough albums. A eulogy for Kevin Drew's pet gerbil intended for a scrapped compilation album, it's the sound of a community coming together in real time as warm snare hits and melancholic horns wrap themselves around Drew's wavering, mourning vocals. Fitting that the band's most potent ode to death came back from the great beyond: after appearing on a rare promo CD and as a B-side to the "7/4 (Shoreline)" CD single, it was revived on the Arts & Crafts 10th anniversary compilation in 2013 and finally found a home among its siblings earlier this year on BSS's latest rarities collection.
Matt Bobkin
15. "Ibi Dreams of Pavement (A Better Day)"
Broken Social Scene (2005)
Existing somewhere between post rock abstraction and orchestral pomp, "Ibi Dreams of Pavement (A Better Day)" begins at a crescendo and only goes up from there. The guitars squall, the thunderous drums propel ever-upward, and the howled vocals sound more like a glorious payoff rather than a first verse. But it's in the final passage that the song really gets going, a triumphant brass figure leading the band in a victory parade march to the finish.
Alex Hudson
14. "Vanity Pail Kids"
Hug of Thunder (2017)
Hug of Thunder didn't have to be as good as it was, and a big part of the album's success is because of songs like "Vanity Pail Kids." Pushing the band's sound into bigger, more aggressive places, the ferocity running through the pounding drums and wild-eyed wailing is what made their fifth record so much more than a victory lap. In classic BSS form, the song is built on lyrics that are silly until they're not, words sung with such conviction that they become a rallying cry. It may not be entirely clear what "You wanna be the size of your sex / You wanna be the size of your mess / You wanna be the size of what's next" actually means, but it means something, and sometimes that's enough to get you on your feet.
Kaelen Bell
13. "Meet Me in the Basement"
Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)
On You Forgot It in People, BSS's instrumental jams were the low-key moments designed to make their song-songs hit harder. But on Forgiveness Rock Record, the instrumental "Meet Me in the Basement" just might be the catchiest and most cathartic release of energy on the whole album: a four-note pattern that grows more thrilling and fist-pumping over the course of four white-knuckle minutes. A fan-made, band-approved music video pairing the song with footage of G20 protests really drives home the track's urgency.
Alex Hudson
Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)
On You Forgot It in People, BSS's instrumental jams were the low-key moments designed to make their song-songs hit harder. But on Forgiveness Rock Record, the instrumental "Meet Me in the Basement" just might be the catchiest and most cathartic release of energy on the whole album: a four-note pattern that grows more thrilling and fist-pumping over the course of four white-knuckle minutes. A fan-made, band-approved music video pairing the song with footage of G20 protests really drives home the track's urgency.
Alex Hudson
12. "Shampoo Suicide"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
"Shampoo Suicide" isn't an instrumental in the technical sense, but the lyrics — a rumination on fitting in and losing out, of washing yourself away in sweet-smelling suds for people who could care less — are more texture than anything else, the message a piece of the song's collapsing architecture. Slotted alongside actual instrumental "Late Nineties Bedroom Rock for the Missionaries," the two songs are unruly whirlpools of sound between the islands of "Cause = Time" and "Lover's Spit." That they're equally as fundamental to the BSS catalogue as those classics prove the band's knack for expressing mountains of meaning without saying much at all.
Kaelen Bell
You Forgot It in People (2002)
"Shampoo Suicide" isn't an instrumental in the technical sense, but the lyrics — a rumination on fitting in and losing out, of washing yourself away in sweet-smelling suds for people who could care less — are more texture than anything else, the message a piece of the song's collapsing architecture. Slotted alongside actual instrumental "Late Nineties Bedroom Rock for the Missionaries," the two songs are unruly whirlpools of sound between the islands of "Cause = Time" and "Lover's Spit." That they're equally as fundamental to the BSS catalogue as those classics prove the band's knack for expressing mountains of meaning without saying much at all.
Kaelen Bell
11. "Swimmers"
Broken Social Scene (2005)
By now, you've probably been wondering where Emily Haines is, but rest assured, this is merely her first appearance on this list. Of her storied BSS contributions, "Swimmers" is an understated gem, and her coy musings on the messiness of young adulthood aim directly for the heart. "If you always get up late / You're never gonna be on time" is advice that's so obvious it's useful (a digestible mantra for the many of us who struggle with executive function), and the swirl of percussion, bass and trumpets provide the perfect amount of release for a song about minute observations and the small, personal victories of figuring out who you are and what turns you on (and, just as crucially, what turns you off).
Matt Bobkin
10. "Can't Find My Heart"
Let's Try the After (Vol. 2) (2019)
The undeniable highlight from 2019's pair of Let's Try the After EPs, "Can't Find My Heart" finds its vitality and warmth as soon as the introductory oh-ohs kick in. Driven by a seething heatwave of guitar and the canorous saxophone riff punctuating each verse couplet, it doesn't reinvent the wheel, harkening back to the heyday of larger-than-life indie rock that's both accessible and incalculable.
Megan LaPierre
9. "Cause = Time"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
Broken Social Scene aren't a lyrics band. With lines about "menstruating disguise," "fornication crimes" and vague references to religion, it's hard to make heads or tails of "Cause = Time." But with a steadily clacking groove, a gorgeous wash of shimmering guitars and a euphoric guitar hook that sounds like it's reaching for the highest possible note on the fretboard, the song pushes past meaning into pure feeling, making its non-sequiturs sound practically profound.
Alex Hudson
8. "All to All"
Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)
Explicitly calling forth the central theme of Forgiveness Rock Record, it's the only song in the catalogue featuring Lisa Lobsinger — who began her touring residency with the collective in 2005 — on lead vocals, grounding its frenetic energy with her gossamer touch. The interplay with the title's soundalike in "ultimatum" playfully revels in the melodicism of language, like the winking staccato pluck at the fore of the mix while the rest of the string section bows elegantly.
Megan LaPierre
7. "Hug of Thunder"
Hug of Thunder (2017)
Talk about delayed gratification. It took Broken Social Scene seven years to follow up 2010's Forgiveness Rock Record — and that same sense of patience is applied to Hug of Thunder's simmering title track, which takes half of its five-minute runtime to get to the chorus. There's a minimal bassline, Feist singing in a quiet mumble, and a patchwork of atmospheric background effects. But just when it seems like the song might drift along as one of BSS's vibe-y ballads, the enormous chorus swoops in, lifting it into a blissful ether of angelic harmonies.
Alex Hudson
6. "Lover's Spit"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
An epic in vignettes, "Lover's Spit" harnesses something quintessential about Broken Social Scene — a band with an unabashed reliance on repetition, but a masterful ability to recontextualize the same words in the ebb and flow of their arrangements until they're made anew. A song fit to live many lives, the "Redux" restoration on Bee Hives aptly samples the whoosh of a jumbo jet, catching air from a delicate Feist piano ballad to call back to the percussive density of the original.
Megan LaPierre
5. "Fire Eye'd Boy"
Broken Social Scene (2005)
So many of Broken Social Scene's best songs deal in the orchestral swell, gradually adding elements as the full depth of their emotional wellsprings slowly come into view. "Fire Eye'd Boy" instead shows its hand from the opening bar, when the guitar first does that little yoink!, and it's all the better for it. It's four minutes of nothing but payoff, where the band known for baring life's chaos front and centre choose here to emit nothing but ecstasy and jubilance — and for those who can't do without a good build, there's one just for you in the bridge.
Matt Bobkin
4. "Sentimental X's"
Forgiveness Rock Record (2010)
What would Broken Social Scene be without Emily Haines? Undoubtedly they'd still be great, but in a band made up of so many individual gravitational forces, hers feels the most grounding. Her presence condenses all the fireworks and volcanic eruptions of BSS into a single dancing flame, and "Sentimental X's" — sung alongside fellow slow-burn powerhouses Feist and Amy Millan — is one of the greatest examples of that unwavering warmth. In many ways it feels like a sequel to the pimple-faced majesty of "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl," sung from further down the road, when the jealousy's turned to forgiveness and the pounding of your heartbeat has softened to a flutter. It's also a message from the band to itself, an ode to togetherness and reconnection. "All for one and one for all / Friend, a friend you used to call" — relationships transform, bandmates let go and join hands again, people change and remain the same. Through it all, some piece of love remains.
Kaelen Bell
3. "Almost Crimes"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
As the first big rock anthem from their breakthrough album, "Almost Crimes" marked the moment Broken Social Scene proved they can conquer a crowd. Even if you haven't yet seen the music video, it's impossible to hear Feist and Kevin Drew trading lines without seeing them squaring off in your mind's eye, accumulating kinetic energy with each swap of the mic before it all bursts into a rapturous finale. It directly spells out the band's heart-on-sleeve, emotionally maximal modus operandi musically and, uncommonly for BSS, lyrically, as Feist portends the band's inevitable success ("I told you, we'd make it") while spelling out the ethos that will drive them there ("We've got love and hate, it's the only way").
Matt Bobkin
2. "7/4 (Shoreline)"
Broken Social Scene (2005)
Naming a song "7/4" feels like an exercise in music theory, drawing attention to the fact that this standout track from Broken Social Scene is in an extremely awkward, counterintuitive time signature. (For those not familiar with the theory: basically every popular rock song is in 4/4 timing, which means each bar counts to four, and a handful are in 3/4 or 6/8. Almost nothing is in 7/4.) It's practically an act of wizardry that "7/4 (Shoreline)" not only settles into its weird rhythm but practically grooves, as drummer Justin Peroff locks into the herky-jerky guitar figure and cleverly marks the end of each bar with an open hi-hat. With verses that flip between feather-soft harmonies and Feist's aerobic yelps, a curious bridge that plays at a lower volume, and an absolutely thunderous crescendo of maximalist horns, the end result isn't about cerebral music theory — it's pure cathartic release.
Alex Hudson
1. "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl"
You Forgot It in People (2002)
Broken Social Scene want to change your life. Their unwieldy catalogue is made for jumping and thrashing and giggling and weeping, designed to pull some small thing from deep inside you, magnify it to blinding proportions, and leave you forever shifted. But if they'd only ever managed to record one song — if all they were given was four-minutes-and-change to fulfill that transformative purpose — then "Anthems for a Seventeen Year-Old Girl" says it all. It's the sound of your first nervy night-ride in your parent's car; the sound of being in pained, jealous love with your best friend; the sound of a night sky, of growing bones and growing older and losing pieces of yourself in order to gain new ones. Emily Haines's pitch-shifting vocals are a dispatch from deep space, an alien benevolence that grows with patient urgency and asks that you remember how it feels to be so alive and stupid and fearful and brave. You can't ever recapture that teenage feeling, but in this magic swirl of banjo and strings and big, big emotion, you'll swear it's there — if just for a moment — somewhere behind your ribcage.
Kaelen Bell