Hand-me-down bands are well-known solely because their members are famous for being in other groups. Along with the regrettable Audioslaves and D12s of the world, this phenomenon often stretches to high and holy indie rock and, with their revolving cast of thousands, Broken Social Scene have proven to be a busy hive of (mostly decent) indie upstarts. But with nearly every BSS permutation exhausted, the collective is wisely looking outward to avoid a half-hearted hand-me-down folly. As the first non-BSS-associated signing to their Arts & Crafts label, the Most Serene Republic are an appealing, wide-eyed anti-hand-me-down sextet that may not have any concrete physical bloodlines to their crafty Canadian neighbors, but-- with their sweeping, climactic pop tendencies-- could easily sneak into a BSS family reunion and steal some BBQ'd prime ribs with few questions asked.
They also risk the chance of being thrown out due to some distant-relation quirks and contrasts. Instead of the charming, shaggy stoner vibe that permeates most of the current A&C; catalog, Cinematographer shows off a nerdier, bookish quality. Along with an ambient, instrumental opening "Prologue" and closing "Epilogue", lead singer and trombonist Adrian Jewett has a thin, high-pitched delivery that sounds like an uber-stereotypical Trekkie singing latter-day Flaming Lips after one and a half Amstel Lights at the local suburban Toronto karaoke night. Live, Jewett's lanky frame sways awkwardly as he waves his hands around haphazardly, looking like an indie-pop sorcerer-wunderkind who takes pride in emptying the spit valve of his horn. The geekiness is palpable on record as well but the frontman largely avoids overt annoyance thanks to his bandmates, who conjure a string of twisty, atmospheric indie-pop ditties that sustain a polite-- if rarely astounding-- tunefulness.
Awash in spacey keyboard effects and admirably varied, widescreen production, most songs go for big, emotional, full-band-chanting-something-meaningful payoffs but come up a tad short. Sometimes the problem involves too many instrumental ideas and vocal melodies packed into one track, inadvertently subverting its elusive eureka moment. "Content Was My Favourite Color" succumbs to this drawback as it combines speed-singing, a handclap breakdown, a vocal round, distorted breakbeats, and twinkle-time piano all within its 4:16-- consequently, the song is both impressive and frustrating. "Where Cedar Nouns And Adverbs Walk" has a weaker case of ADD and wisely homes in on the keyboard-bop that drives its second half, the band repeating a battle cry of "I think we all know the words" with increasing intensity.
With all of the members of the Most Serene Republic around 20 (they cite Kid A as their official musical-mind-blow moment), they have an ample amount of time, energy, and bulletproof indie connections to push their "who you know" to "what you know" ratio even further into the right direction. If the group can manage to focus their youthful exuberance without losing their abundant spontaneity, their ambitions of becoming a true musical sovereign state could very well be realized.
