Kevin Drew at Tripod, Dublin

Kevin Drew, the bearded indie-poet behind Toronto supergroup Broken Social Scene, has spoken lately of his growing disillusionment with music. Required to go on the road practically all year round in order to earn a crust (royalties not being what they were in a post-download world), the 30-year-old says he’s starting to question why he wanted to be in a band in the first place.
Curiously, this gathering cloud of ennui has been to the betterment of his art. Spirit If, Drew’s latest record – quasi-credited to Broken Social Scene – is a plaintive masterpiece, spilling over with sweetly naive melodies and haunting guitar hooks.
In a packed and heaving Tripod, Drew shows us that sometimes artists are at their most interesting when grappling with turmoil (though the bottle of Jack Daniels with which he was also grappling can’t have done any harm either). Backed by Broken Social Scene regulars Brendan Canning and Charles Spearin (with American Analogue Set's Andrew Kenny manning keys), Drew presides over an evening of dreamily anthemic pop. Surfing on a taut guitar line, ‘Fucked Up Kid’ is an early stand out; later Drew and Canning trade woozy notes on ‘When It Begins’ while ‘Back Out’, with its aching minor-chord refrain, is possibly the finest song he’s yet penned.
By the encore, the night has descended – in a good way – into karaoke panto. “They told me I shouldn't do this,” deadpans Drew before leading the audience in a mass sing-along of ‘Where The Streets Have No Name’. In the hands of a lesser artist, this would come off as cheesy – not to mention obsequious. But Drew has a talent for making even the schmaltziest gesture feel weighed with profundity.