

The mood grows more hushed around the album’s midpoint.

It segues into the 2001 track “Do the 95,” where Kevin Drew’s vocals feel like baseballs being flung at you from inside a batting cage. Opener “Far Out,” originally from a pre-order EP released in anticipation of 2010’s Forgiveness Rock Record, is a delicate ambient interstitial, twisting and turning like a toy ballerina in a jewelry box. Old Dead Young is best appreciated as the first retrospective from a band whose music is already all about self-mythologizing and looking back at the past.ĭespite being essentially a grab bag of ephemera, Old Dead Young plays like an actual album, sequenced like any Broken Social Scene record, shifting between styles and collaborators. They’re not the band’s best songs, and most of the record isn’t particularly memorable. For the most part, these 14 tracks are a pretty subdued listen. Old Dead Young, the band’s new career-spanning B-sides and rarities collection, won’t necessarily give you the same ecstatic lift of their more beloved material. For fans of a certain age, their work has become synonymous with being a teen: Lorde is one of those fans, and she memorably interpolated “Lover’s Spit” into “ Ribs,” making an adolescent anthem of her own. For over two decades, the Canadian collective has written anthemic, heart-on-your-sleeve indie rock songs that make you want to sit on your crush’s lap at a house party or shotgun a beer in a cornfield. Broken Social Scene have been soundtracking intimate firsts since the internet was a little baby and made a lot of noise when you turned it on.
