Given Broken Social Scene’s current status as the heroic sentimentalists of 2000s indie rock, it’s easy to forget that the group’s post-rock roots run deep. Similar to their Canadian colleagues Arcade Fire, the sprawling and ever-shifting collective counts members with established histories in bands that embraced post-rock’s nebulous, largely instrumental sonic ethos; whereas Win Butler and co.’s anthemic approach was fully formed upon first impact, however, Broken Social Scene’s early records—including 2002’s star-making You Forgot It in People—were marked by the electronic squiggles, languid arrangements, and the penchant for catharsis that typified so much post-rock in the early 2000s.
Even as the band’s songwriting has taken on a more explicitly uplifting and streamlined form, they’ve never quite forgotten where they came from; 2010’s lovely, shapeshifting Forgiveness Rock Record was produced by John McEntire of post-rock godheads Tortoise and featured the Sea and Cake’s Sam Prekop on a song that practically mirrored the tropical, wafting dreaminess of his main act. After a seven-year hiatus (there are few things more explicitly post-rock than taking forever between albums), Broken Social Scene returned with Hug of Thunder, their shortest record to date, which represented a full realization of the warm-embrace rock music they’ve leaned toward since the days when bandleader Kevin Drew turned live renditions of “It’s All Gonna Break” into a call-and-response anthem.
But amid the empathy and urgency streaked across Hug of Thunder was a band still unafraid to doodle moodily in the margins, from the instrumental ditherings in the midsection of “Victim Lover” to the sax-led breakdown in “Stay Happy,” the latter which practically and lovingly ripped from the playbook of BSS-adjacent post-rock act Do Make Say Think. Even by its own hazy standards, post-rock has taken on an unusually wide range of forms, from the jazzy and quixotic to pure, uncut, ascendant drama. Over the last 20 years, Broken Social Scene have proven themselves the rare act to fuse those opposite poles in a manner that’s emotionally nourishing even at their most obtuse. The subsequent EPs that have accompanied every album since 2005’s self-titled record have typically offered explorations of Broken Social Scene’s alternately tight and loose approaches, at times doling out a bit of self-mythologizing for good measure.
Broken Social Scene’s companion piece, EP to Be You and Me, featured a fast-paced take on the previously slow-burning “Major Label Debut” and a submerged reprise of the title track to Broken Social Scene’s largely ambient 2001 debut, Feel Good Lost. In a few respects, the band’s latest EP, Let’s Try the After Vol. 1, is no different; it’s a mix of surging mostly-instrumentals and fairly compact pop songs, arriving with a promise from Drew himself that he and his compatriots won’t vanish for so long again. “The point is to keep going. We have more to give,” he promised in a press release accompanying the EP’s announcement.
The weakest tune in this new crop is the EP’s first single and closing track, “All I Want,” with Apostle of Hustle frontman Andrew Whiteman taking lead vocals; after opening with a dirty bassline faintly reminiscent of the Killers’ macho 2017 single “The Man,” the song mutates into a vaguely post-punk-ish groove that ebbs and flows unsatisfyingly. Otherwise, Let’s Try the After is a pleasant Andes Creme de Menthe following the feast that was Hug of Thunder, as Broken Social Scene tackle a few of their distinct modes—propulsive and tricky instrumental rock, explosive guitar-hero theatrics, slow-burning balladry—in capable, familiar fashion.
That familiarity isn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially if you’re typically into what Broken Social Scene bring to the table. The Drew-led “Boyfriends” builds on Hug of Thunder’s skyscraping rock motifs as he effortlessly slides into the rousing chorus, “Let’s get you out of here,” a torrent of electric guitar and weighty piano chords arriving perfectly on cue. “1972” showcases the coolly delivered vocals of Broken Social Scene’s most recent convert, Ariel Engle, who previously provided the perfect counterbalance to the out-of-step chaos of “Stay Happy”; here, she vibes over a mid-tempo bass-and-drums combo vaguely reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk classic “Storms” before the rest of the band dives headlong into a mood-shifting orchestral outro.
Engle also appears on “Remember Me Young,” a compact mostly-instrumental that features her wordless vocals and also provides the album’s biggest surprise. It’s essentially “KC Accidental” turned inside out: The brief breakdowns that dot the track’s steady beat and fluttering guitar licks soothe rather than crashing through the scenery—they amount to a bed of vocal elisions and depth-charge piano stabs that feels like being smacked in the face with a downy pillow. Such forceful beauty—a sense of indefinable, life-affirming ecstasy—is practically woven into Broken Social Scene’s DNA at this point, and Let’s Try the After is proof that their genetic makeup is as complicatedly pure as ever.
