Throw a rock at any man’s head while walking down the street in Toronto and/or Montreal and, odds are, you’ve just injured a member or ex-member of Broken Social Scene. So fluid has been the line up of this institution of Canadian rock music, that it was difficult to predict what the exact line up for tonight’s gig would actually be: from all reports this was to be an enormous affair, with BSS’s music based entirely in wide instrumentation and heart-on-sleeve emotional grandeur. We were graced tonight with the presence of the band’s all-male incarnation: stalwarts Brendan Canning, Kevin Drew and Justin Peroff were joined by multi-instrumentalists Andrew Whiteman, Sam Goldberg and Charles Spearin to create a very loud, very rock ‘n’ roll outfit. But is this Broken Social Scene?

It’s very easy to list faults with live shows: from lights shining in the eyes of the musicians to an overly-talkative audience, there was a lot that was out of BSS’s control this evening. What was entirely within the ambit of their capabilities, however, was the organization and execution of their performance. Professionalism is one thing, arrogance another, and BSS have both in varying amounts. They play their instruments to perfection – the guitar-work is incredible, especially Whiteman’s, the bass sometimes profound (whenever Spearin picked it up, something special was in store) and Peroff’s drumming absolutely superb – but when this is the case for over two hours, there has to be another element present. Often, this ‘other element’ is an amiable demeanor, sometimes it’s theatricality or good, old-fashioned showmanship. Tonight, Drew and his companions treated us to a show laced with, and ultimately poisoned by, self-indulgence

When we were nearing the end of the set, Drew questioned the audience: “do we seem lost without girls and horns?” There was little if any crowd response to this question. When leaving the stage (in between warning us of the dangers of mononucleosis and telling us to love one another, petitioning each audience member to hug another) Drew promised to be back soon “with girls and horns.” He knew what many felt: as impressive as they were this evening, some the band’s defining elements were missing. A great deal of the set was taken up by new songs, presumably due to the fact that, lacking some band members, they basically had to strike a lot of old and much-loved numbers out of contention (Canning at one point suggested they could play another favourite only if someone in the crowd was willing to sing Feist’s part).

This whole review seems a little negative, doesn’t it? It all seems to be saying BSS were a shadow of their former self, wholly unremarkable. To put a more positive spin on the affair, some of the tracks were belted out with both precision and passion. ‘It’s All Gonna Break’ ended the set perfectly, its dynamic and tempo changes executed beautifully; ‘Looks Just Like the Sun’ saw Whiteman take the microphone, and despite their own protests as to the execution, was a lovely change from Drew’s quasi-monopoly on lead vocals. However this was directly preceded by (what we imagine was) an attempt at some kind of free jazz suite, combining horns, guitars and heavy distortion. Is that what you come to see Broken Social Scene for?

It does seem rather trite to complain about a band playing too long, but even die-hard fans of Broken Social Scene (of which there was a healthy showing) were losing interest as the set reached the one and half hour mark. Perhaps a tell-tale sign that the set should be naturally over is when the band is on stage asking each other “what should we play now? Do we have any more material to play”, yet Broken Social Scene pushed on into a section of new material, the performance of which was largely sloppy by their own lofty standards. This really was the most disappointing aspect of a disappointing set, watching these incredibly talented musicians flounder and struggle through unrehearsed material, to the point where staying to listen to it became a chore.