Or, do those important albums stay where you found them-representative of a time and place that you can never return to? And does the band remain stunted, unable, or too afraid, to leave the sound that made them who they are? For acts that rose to prominence during the early to mid 2000s boom for the genre-can you bring their seminal albums with you through time? Can they continue to evolve as artists and maintain relevance with new releases? However, I didn’t see these shows through to the end, so part of me just presumes that, somewhere, somehow, they are still going.ĭoes “indie rock” really grow with you? It’s a question that I’ve been pondering more and more.
#PROTEST SONG BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE FREE#
They apparently played for, like, a really long time that night, and I guess later in the set, I was told Kevin Drew jumped into the crowd and was giving out free hugs.īoth of these shows ended-crowds dispersed, and the band got back on the bus to head to the next city. So, as the band went into another song, I turned to my friends and was like, “Yeah, I need to get going.” Touting a lengthy setlist, the band continued to play late into the night, and there became a point when I started to get a little anxious about the time-I had to get up early for a meeting of some sort the next morning. In my mid-20s then, I had not been one to wear earplugs to concerts (that has since changed) and this show goes down in my memory as one of the most obnoxiously loud I’ve been to-I seem to recall my ears ringing for days afterward. Eventually, as the evening grew later, a slimmed down arrangement of Broken Social Scene took the stage, launching into the surprising one-two punch of “Late Nineties Bedroom Rock for the Missionaries” and “Shampoo Suicide.” Land of Talk was the supporting act, and their blistering (albeit short) live set made me a believer-one of the rare times that I was pleased with an opening band.
Again, the band was playing at First Avenue, in Minneapolis this time, I went with a group of friends. The second, and final time, that I tried to see Broken Social Scene live was almost exactly three years later, when the band was on the road behind one of their short-lived Broken Social Scene presents… efforts-this time, it was Brendan Canning’s LP, Something For All of Us. I was disappointed, sure-this was in a time when I was unaware of how crippling my concert anxiety would grow-but I understood that we needed to be moving along. I feel like we probably made it through about a third of Broken Social Scene’s set, maybe a little more, when my wife started feeling ill-that’s what First Ave’ll do to you (it’s not the only time this has happened to her.) So, in the short amount of space between songs, we decided to leave. We arrived late-derailed by an afternoon trip to the Mall of America (we were so young back then, so this was still a fun place to go), and also, I had never driven in Minneapolis before, so I had no idea where we were going or how best to calmly handle “big city traffic.” A pre- Reminder Leslie Feist was opening, and we wandered in as she was finishing up.
She was finishing up her final year in college, and I was coming up for the weekend to visit.Īs fate would have it, I learned that Broken Social Scene were playing at First Avenue that same weekend, so I impulsively bought tickets for the show-one of many times early in our relationship where I was like, “Hey honey, let’s go to this thing you don’t give a shit about at all.” This was back when I was living in Dubuque, Iowa, and my wife and I were simply just courting. The first time I tried to see the band was in 2005, when they were touring in support of their self-titled release. Somewhere, Broken Social Scene is still playing live.
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