by LORRAINE CARPENTER

When Kevin Drew and Brendan Canning quietly founded Broken Social Scene in a Toronto basement in 1999, they didn’t realize they’d created a monster. Following their debut album, Feel Good Lost, the duo grew into a touring band, supplemented by special guests from groups such as Stars, Metric, By Divine Right, Raising the Fawn and Do Make Say Think, along with solo artists Jason Collett and Feist. In 2002, this supergroup of “friends and lovers” (as their label Arts & Crafts likes to say), recorded You Forgot It in People, a standout record and a beautiful accident, coinciding with the beginning of Canada’s slow but sure ascendance to indie-rock supremacy.

Over the past two years, they sold enough records to win a Juno, satiated salivating fans with a B-sides disc, toured the world twice over and nearly lost their shit. With producer and band member Dave Newfeld, they also recorded a self-titled sophomore LP, another epic offering of savage passion, stunning melodies, bulbous orchestras, buff guitars and intimate, desperate vocals, a much larger and less lucid record than its predecessor, featuring yet more guests/new members: K-OS, Ohad Benchetrit (Do Make Say Think), Jason Tait (Weakerthans, FemBots), Julie Penner (FemBots, Do Make Say Think, solo) and Murray Lightburn (the Dears).

Ahead of the band’s big show at MEG Montreal, Drew told the Mirror about his recording pains, touring nightmares, CNN soundtracks, suicide-bombing dreams and imminent retirement.

Mirror: So how are you guys doing? In your last round of interviews, just over a year ago, you sounded pretty grim.

Kevin Drew: I believe that was the “touring is ruining my life” part of our stereotypical rock ’n’ roll ride.

M: Is that part of the touring cycle? Will you be back there in two years?

KD: No, we’ll never go back there. It was the worst summer of my life. You know, you have this incredible opportunity, but eight times out of 10 you just wanna be a big fucking baby about it, so you let [yourself] whine and ruin things. But there’s people in my band that fucking adore [touring], so it’s up to the individual and how they handle it.

M: I’m guessing the debauchery is a big part of that.

KD: Yeah, but you don’t have to do that. We went on this one tour where no one drank for two weeks—it was very bizarre. Once you kinda get over the idea that you don’t have to live every day like it’s your last, then you realize this is actually what you do, it’s your job, and you wouldn’t be getting wasted every day if it was another job.

The madness method

M: How do you feel about the new record?

KD: I feel really good about it, but it took me a while. It was not an easy record to make, nor was it an easy record to listen to after it was done. The whole process was hard.

M: Was that because of the pressure you guys are under?

KD: Of course there’s pressure, but it’s just everything. Everything. It was the number of people involved, it was Dave Newfeld’s lifestyle, it was our lifestyle, it was touring, it was never having songs and then having songs, and losing stuff and finding stuff, and not having a schedule. We don’t do it the way it should be done, or the way it’s supposed to be done.

M: It’s been said that your method is an integral part of the creative process.

KD: I disagree, and it’s something I’m not going to partake in anymore. This record is a mirror to how it was made. You can hear it—it’s a mess. It’s a big fucking mess. There’s more things wrong with this record than right. Thank God. What do you think of the record? Let me guess—you put it on and you were like, “Whoa, what’s going on here?” And you listen to it again and—I’m assuming you’re a fan. Are you a fan, or no?

M: Yeah, and you’re right, it does take a couple of listens to wrap your head around it, even though it’s obviously the same band. There’s definitely an element of chaos.

KD: There is. I mean, he’s singing on it (guffaws, probably slaps knee).

M: Yes, I knew that was coming.

Eponymously yours

M: Dave Newfeld—

KD: David Newfeld—the genius! The crazy, lovely, beautiful man! This is basically his record, he’s the captain of the ship, we knew that going in, and it was a helluva time but we’re here.

M: His level of perfectionism was recently compared to Brian Wilson and Kevin Shields.

KD: I’ve tried to explain to him that that was the ultimate compliment, he was like, (nonchalantly) “Yeah, that’s cool.” “No Dave, that’s like this really, really big compliment,” and he’s like, “Yeah, well there’s still fucking crack addicts outside my Goddamn door and I can’t fucking breathe in this fucking studio and WAAAAAHHHHHH!”

M: Is he neurotic?

KD: Dave?

M: Yeah.

KD: Heh, heh, heh, heh, oh… I’m not even gonna answer that. Just tell the world he’s a beautiful eccentric man and people are boring and that’s why we hang out with him. It’s true, people are boring. I’m glad I’ve got Newfeld in my life to make everyone feel uncomfortable at times. It’s great, it’s challenging—that’s what this record is. I didn’t realize it was this beautiful, fearful album while we were making it. But while I was away on vacation in Portugal in August, I was watching CNN because that was the only English channel, and there were so many fucking natural disasters going on in Europe, and the Gaza thing. We had just finished the record and it was very intense lying on this bed listening to it and watching the news. I felt like it matched somehow. There’s pretty much a defeatist vibe in the world now. It’s so uncomfortable in these comfortable times. It’s like a house sits on your chest every morning, and I feel like something has snapped or changed in the last little while, something I can’t quite fully feel, but the idea of continuing without wanting to turn your fucking head into a grenade is kinda strange.

M: It’s dark.

KD: It’s dark, and I feel like this record reflects that. I mean, a lot of people are like, “Naw, it sounds like a party to me.” Well, it’s a party with a fucking bomber in the back.

Pro choice

M: Tell me about the track “Canada vs. America” from the upcoming EP.

KD: Um, “The big guns are coming out/ Your mind’s like a cigarette hooked on the fever/ So throw yourself down/ Your spine’s like a broken cliff and your heart’s full of semen/ So throw yourself down.” That’s basically it.

M: So are you addressing politics, culture, or is it way more abstract than that?

KD: I don’t know. It sounds like U2. And yes, Lorraine, it’s addressing all the issues that people talk about in the morning.

M: At the water cooler?

KD: No, no! I’m talking about the people who can’t get out of bed. [Proceeds to curse his band for choosing that song title and encourages everyone to choose their own title for the album, in the spirit of Choose Your Own Adventure books.] You know why? ’Cause it’s all out in the open right now. Everything’s sorta sitting there, floating around. Kinda scary! What’s gonna happen? We’re gonna go out on tour and then we’ll go marching and we’ll smell our own shit and we’ll believe. We’ll believe that making a difference can only cost $26.99. Blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah. I’m trying to retire, Lorraine, as you can tell.

M: Retire? In what sense?

KD: In the sense that some kid with braces can give me a hug and say, “You rock, man,” and I say, “Thanks. I’m now going to go to sleep for two years.”

With Islands, Jad Fair & Lumberob and Jay Watts III at Metropolis on Friday, Oct. 21, 7:30 p.m., $30

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