Broken Social Scene emerged from the Canadian music scene in 2002 as a fifteen member indie orchestra with an album that was the direct product of all the experimental energy supercharging the musical times.

That album was You Forgot It In People and it hasn’t lost any of its edge or interest. It’s still consuming, slowly drawing you in till you’re trapped in its tender chaos. With relaxed, easy arrangements yet also (somehow) a precise crispness and proportion, each track is uniquely striking and every second of You Forgot It In People matters.

It’s partly the dynamic attitude of the album that makes it so successful: it can be endearingly innocent, but also decidedly experienced. ‘Anthems For A Seventeen-Year-Old Girl’ sees Metric’s Emily Haines asking all tomboy baddies with cut up knees and sweet-sticky hands to return from the grown-up world of make-up and mobiles. Yet Kevin Drew, Broken Social Scene’s principal songwriter, is one of the most pleasantly rude musicians working today, and he displays it proudly on the record. His unflinching honesty makes the straight up sex in his songs the type of hot aestheticised goodness that might affront, but forces you to say right bloody on. It only takes one listen to realise that ‘Late Nineties Bedroom Rock For The Missionaries’, its partner ‘Shampoo Suicide’, ‘Lover’s Spit’ and ‘I’m Still Your Fag’ will never lose their heat.

Really, this entire album will never lose its smoulder. You Forgot It In People will always be the place to go to hear the carefully anarchic, orchestrated abandon that made Broken Social Scene great and other bands envious.