Canadian collective Broken Social Scene makes a remarkable return to the scene with the confident indie-pop of Remember the Humans.
Release date: May 8, 2026 | City Slang | Facebook | Instagram | Bandcamp
2002’s Forget It In People was a watershed moment for indie rock at the turn of the century. The bright lights of The Strokes had given way to the dark ruminations of Interpol, and while those two bands were often discussed as ushering in a new era for rock, the greater cultural zeitgeist had made up its mind. Rock and roll was finished. R&B, rap, trap music, the polished pop of American Idol contestants all came through like juggernauts, crushing all in its path. Part of this had to do with the necessary globalization of music and increased access, but much of it just had to do with the fluffing of the ragged feathers that was inherent with a genre dominated by cis-gendered white men. The hive mind had just gotten exhausted. It was time for something else.
In the meantime, there was a collective of musicians in Toronto who got together and just doggedly assembled ragtag jams into something that was instantly identifiable, music that went just as well with having friends over for dinner and couple of bottles of wine, as it did with sinking into the couch with a big fat joint. Broken Social Scene created a soundtrack for passing the torch to the new generation of pop stars, a kind of post-slacker soundtrack for those of us who realized the popular world was leaving us behind. And once the popular world has left you behind and you’re- gulp- irrelevant, the only thing left is the chaff that fell from the social wheat. In other words, a community. And if Broken Social Scene is ‘about’ anything, it’s this sense of community. Their music makes one feel included, and Lord knows there’s not enough of that.
On their new album Remember the Humans, the band continues making music that feels like a warm hug, a familiarity that comes with walking through the door of your house after a long trip, the cats meowing for food, the throw pillows and cotton blanket exactly where you left them. It’s something you never get tired of, because it’s such a carefully curated part of your existence. It’s in that space that the music of Broken Social Scene exists.
And it starts right away. The horns ease in over a gently strummed Strat, and then the rhythm section comes in with a slow, laid back melody driven track. ‘There’s no need to fight here anymore or to live your life here anymore,’ the band sings. ‘To be alive here anymore, cuz it’s all gone away.’ It’s not so much a slacker anthem as it is saying there’s no need to be caught up in the endless rat race. Broken Social Scene are telling you to take a break, sit on that couch with your throw pillows and cats and binge watch For All Mankind. And, most importantly, don’t beat yourself up over it.
In addition to the great start of “Not Around Anymore”, the first three songs on the album are a primer in what makes Broken Social Scene a perennial in the indie garden of rock and roll. Short, tight, propulsive pop songs, “Only the Good I Keep” and “Mission Accomplished (Kingfisher)” show the band loosening up like dinner party guests after the second glass of wine, dinner not yet served, everyone greeted with half-hearted hugs and reluctant cheek kisses. A time when everyone is a little tipsy and have finally stopped talking about work. (Full disclosure: I go to ‘dinner parties’ only because it feels like it’s code for do you wanna come over and drink. I’d rather stay at home and eat, to be totally honest.)
There’s always been a confident charm about the band (or should that be a charming confidence?) that’s ingrained in the band’s collective approach to song-writing and the loose, yet intricate melodies the band constructs with their varied instrumentation. Guitars shimmer back and forth between speakers. Trumpets, clarinets, and saxophones come out from nowhere, like a NOLA marching band passing by the corner. In every case, the bass does most of the heavy lifting, both rhythmically and melodically, an integral piece of the bands charisma.
On second single “The Call”, the band starts to fiddle with disco-adjacent rhythms and arrangements, all the while staying true to their plebian roots. The playfulness of early Beck and the careful production of Sufjan Stevens and an unspoken admiration for the Northern Soul melodies weave their way into the mid-section of the album. “This Briefest Kiss”, an album high-point, really leans into this aura. It’s a combination of Keyshia Cole, and too much Xanax and Viagra. The vocals are purred over a groove so laid-back it’s about to fall out of the passenger seat of the car. Driven by a melody that acts as a deconstruction of “A Careless Whisper”, the song shows Broken Social Scene at their creative best.
“Life Within the Ground” is the morning after, the dining room littered with empty wine bottles, dirty plates and someone’s coat, light piercing uncomfortably through the blinds. It’s the beginning to a new day after a long night, a moment of quiet reflection and pensive anticipation, headache be damned. A descending bass line, one of the most prominent on the album, repeats ad infinitum, a moment of meditative hesitation. One of the highlights of any Broken Social Scene song is the intricate harmonies and the laconic vocal delivery of the group’s resident vocalists. Remember the Humans is a stunning return to form, in this aspect— as if the band ever left that form to begin with.
Their most recent single “Hey Amanda” breaks free of the more contemplative moods of the previous tracks, an almost celebratory traipse into the sun rising to its apex above the horizon. The horn melodies are more tight and structured than before, and it ushers in the final denouement of one of the year’s finest albums so far. “Praying for Your Love” and final song “Parking Lot Dreams” end the album on a strong note, equally as powerful as the opening tracks. Indeed, the album doesn’t have an unforgettable track on the record, and the group’s ability to craft clever, catchy indie pop songs, particularly decades after their formation, is testament to the power of the collective. We should all be so lucky to be part of our own broken social scenes, as dysfunctional as they maybe.
Remember the Humans charts the myriad of feelings that come with aging out of youth, and being relegated to the sidelines of popular culture. There’s a pleasant familiarity to the sound Broken Social Scene creates, and yet they’ve kept their middle-age eyes, through their peripheral vision, focused on what’s going on around them. It’s this infusion of modern touches into the music that makes this dinner party a little more interesting than the others, even if the entire endeavor is comforting in its predictability. In the end, we’re all lucky that this gang of Canadians found their way to our dinner table after all this time.
