Licence 2 Chill: Broken Social Scene's Brendan Canning scales back on new LP

These are strange times for the city of Toronto. It’s an era of uncertainty and sheer bafflement, largely due to the efforts of one man – the somewhat ‘unique’ Mayor Rob Ford. At the time of writing, councillors have voted to strip their colourful leader of some of his powers, following a series of ill-advised comments ranging from admissions of drink-driving and dabbling in crack cocaine to lewdly denying allegations of sexual advances towards a female co-worker (“I get enough to eat at home,” he told an incredulous press gathering). Not your average elected official, basically, although one particular voter is getting a little more involved in the whole circus than he’d anticipated.

“He has a press agent who looks a lot like me,” laughs Brendan Canning, “so I’m getting an awful lot of Twitter messages about my likeness to this one guy.” It’s not the sort of publicity that the Broken Social Scene guitarist might usually court – cast in the same anti-star mould as the rest of the indie rock generation, he’s more likely to be found behind a mixing desk than engaging in politics à la Bono – but nonetheless, he wryly suggests this may provide him with a new path. “I’m thinking of running for mayor. Just to keep it entertaining for people…”

In jest or not, that particular comment feels somewhat in keeping with Brendan’s decision to return to the world of solo records. His new effort You Gots 2 Chill is a sweetly laid-back affair, largely revolving around delicately-picked acoustic guitars and his soft, whispered voice. It’s the sound of a man who’s engaged with group dynamics for long enough – here, he’s the one calling all the shots.

“I think it’s a natural progression after you’ve been in a big band for however many years,” he says, referring to Broken’s core collective. “If there’s six other dudes in the jam space, they’re weighing in on every idea. That’s true and fair because you’re in a band and there’s a lot of group decisions going on, but sometimes you wanna say ‘No, I don’t want any questions about this.’ I guess that’s the thing about making a solo record: you don’t have as many questions in the air, so you have to be aware of how to present and question your own work.”

So how did the record come about? Almost by accident, it would appear. “Broken were touring, and I had some songs recorded from way back, and then Steve Singh – an old high school friend of mine – had a studio and he just called me up and said, ‘Hey, let’s make an album.’ He knew I had a lot of riffs saved up… any time I’m involved in one thing, I always like to have something else going on, just to distract me from whatever is taking up the majority of my time – a little fork in the road, I guess.”

These forks have become increasingly common since Brendan’s last solo record, 2008’s Something For All Of Us. Released under the ‘Broken Social Scene Presents’ banner alongside bandmate Kevin Drew’s Spirit If… LP, it was a decidedly noisier project than this new follow-up. Since then there’s been another Broken record, a revival of his old band Cookie Duster and a mysterious “interactive game-slash-movie,” which just happens to be a David Cronenberg retrospective.

“I’m thinking of running for mayor. Just to keep it entertaining for people…” – Brendan Canning

Having teased us by bringing it up, the cheeky scamp declines to give any further details (“I’m doing what I do best – just making music”) but cheerfully discusses his other soundtrack work. Scott Pilgrim Vs The World is arguably the standout listing on that section of his CV – “Nigel Godrich got Kevin and I to work on the film to give it some Toronto authenticity,” he says modestly – but more recently, there was what he refers to as “the Lindsay Lohan debacle.” Specifically, the Bret Easton Ellis-penned The Canyons. The very mention elicits a resigned sigh. “I guess it just wasn’t the best project I’ve worked on. With the music, I think we did a really good job; all that stuff was fun. The process just dragged on a bit, and the uncertainties of Lindsay’s stability seeped into everything. But it was a good learning experience.”

It seems fair to say that Canning has something of a restless muse, to the extent that this explicitly laid-back record almost seems like a response to his hectic schedule. The pervading mood, however, is one of optimism; particularly on the soothingly upbeat However Long, prompting the question of whether our hero feels content at present. “No, not totally content, if I’m honest. Somewhere in between. But at the very least the music should still convey positivity. Like, the opening track [the instructively-titled instrumental Post-Fahey] is a peppy one.”

“I didn’t put anything too weird on the record. I feel like it’s a pop record – it may be acoustic picky, and there’s… for lack of a better word, some ‘folktronica,’ though I think that word has come and gone…! I look to the Cocteau Twins for melodic expression. They made music that didn’t sound like anyone else, and it wasn’t ever so much about the lyrics Elizabeth Fraser was writing as the sounds she created.”

Releasing the record on his own label Draper Street also provided a chance to further his self-expression, even taking its title from the neighbourhood where Canning lives. Sociopathic politicians aside, he still enjoys living in Toronto:

“It’s always busy. The World DMC Championships are in town right now, so I should go and see some stuff before the final. I’m doing a panel discussion at an event, talking about the old-school of Toronto… and you know, my first big gig was back in 1992 with a band called hHead. Not the most amazing band, but we got a lot of local accolades, just for being spirited, I guess. The singer and I had an acoustic duo called The Happy, and then went backpacking to Europe, saw Sonic Youth play… kinda went from there, you know? ‘God this acoustic duo is lame!’ We were really inspired after that.”

The acoustic dominance of You Gots 2 Chill indicates he’s come full circle, we suggest. He laughs. “Yeah, I know! But with a five-piece band – we did this gig here with a violinist and a piano player, playing all these quieter, pretty acoustic songs. I like to do all that stuff and make it really pretty, and then just destroy it.”

Has he ever considered moving further afield? “I think I’ve done enough travelling now. I did a lot in the 90s, and then quadruple that in the 2000s. Toronto still feels like home.” So he doesn’t miss the touring lifestyle? “No, I don’t. I went to see Toro Y Moi the other night and I thought ‘Oh, that seems fun,’ but then you go upstairs and you’re just hanging around. I liked it whenever we’d finish shows, and everyone would go backstage and I would go out to talk to people. We could go backstage and talk about the show, or I could go out front and get some instant gratification off people. I’ll take that any day!”

He’s joking again, but does that need for approval hint at some degree of anxiety? Canning swiftly brushes such notions aside. “My friend Emily from Metric gave me a good quote. She said ‘Anxiety is just the dizziness of freedom.’ I think some French philosopher said that [the very Danish Kierkegaard, actually – Philosophy Ed.], but I always try to keep it in mind. Like, ‘You wanted your freedom, well here it is. This is what it means to you.'” So there you go: a man in control of his own destiny, with a strong work ethic, a fertile imagination and a healthy sense of perspective. Sound like mayor material to you? Vote Canning.