For the duration of my whole life my father has been my minister. Which aside from a few good Dusty Springfield jokes, the situation has yielded some strange results in my life. When I was three, our family transfered to Guelph, Ontario, 100 km west of Toronto. I cheered for the Blue Jays during their two title runs (which, as a true fan of Ohio sports, will probably be the only championships I'll see for a while). I lost my tonsils there. I even learned the metric system, which messed me up pretty bad when we moved back to the States.

So, if pressed, I would say my true formative years were spent while I had dual citizenship in two countries. At the risk of sounding narcissistic, I even received my Social Security number in Toronto. Which is to say that I received my identity in and from Canada.

And when God transferred us back to Ohio, I still stubbornly clung to a sense of Canadian pride, although I no longer held citizenship. My teenage years I spent cheering for the Toronto Raptors and the '95-96 Rookie of the Year, Damon Stoudemire. So, in 2003, when I read a Rolling Stone article about a Toronto band who had a song called 'Late Nineties Bedroom Rock for the Missionaries', I had to have the album. It took a little searching but I finally located a copy and fell in love at first listen. I had You Forgot It In People playing when I moved into my first apartment. I rode a bike over six miles in the summer heat just to hear Broken Social Scene and the supplemental EP, To Be You & Me.

So when I was finally able to snag a copy of Forgiveness Rock Record, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. It's a record full of turmoil, and what happens when you try to move past it. Transitions and compromises can be full of bumps along the way. It's only natural. And FRR finds BSS trimmed down from a rollicking collective to a more subdued three or four guitarist jam band. It's not a suit the band wears consistently well.

The record kicks off with 'World Sick', and it's only real offense is the nearly 2+ minutes of noodling that serves as the outro. 'Chase Scene' wouldn't sound out of place in and 80's thriller, and it also doubles as one of two song titles that references movies in one way or another. The other song, 'Art House Director' ranks among the worst BSS songs ever. Andrew Whiteman follows his Eats Darkness streak and delivers another clunker that wouldn't sound out of place in the early No Doubt oeuvre. It comes off as unapologetically trite and carefree and sounds too much like ska for it's own good. Whiteman would do better to stay away the tropical music he has been producing lately (see Apostle of Hustle's embarrassing blue-eyed reggae dud, 'Perfect Fit').

But Andrew is not the only offender here. 'Meet Me In The Basement' locks into a fairly simple and repetitive riff that just stands around, merely gaining traction. It's three and a half minutes of going nowhere in particular. Brendan Canning also turns in nothing but harebrained jams. 'Water in Hell' is only a salvageable repeat listen because of the spectacular breakdown, reminiscent of the solo in 'Major Label Debut (Fast)'. 'Highway Slipper Jam' is a lazy, although inoffensive, country farce. Unfortunately Brendan fails to bring much to the table this time, which some might credit to his move from bass to guitar (Sam Goldberg has been subbed in his place). Thank God for Kevin Drew then.

Drew turns in the some of the best songs on the album, 'Sweetest Kill', 'Ungrateful Little Father' & 'Forced to Love', the latter which seems to somewhat be a commentary on the state of the band post Broken Social Scene. Emily Haines & Amy Millan lends their pipes to yet another vocal powerhouse from the fringes, 'Sentimental X's'. And while Lisa Lobsinger's turn in 'All to All' fairs well, I can't help but wonder how the song would have taken off under Feist's unearthly coos. Most of the album is conspicuously (and unfortunately) vacant of poor Leslie.

But that's the story of BSS. Outsized ambitions, a nearly incestuous musical scene, and a trying third album led to band infighting, grudges and the dissolution of relationships (both friendly and romantic). Hence Forgivness Rock Record. After spending time crafting two meticulously layered and epic albums, the band opted for a less is more, drastically restrained & focused record this time around. You can't blame them for wanting to simplify, but Forgiveness Rock Record turns out to be a case of less just simply being less.

Despite all that, I still ordered the EP.