"Broken Social Scene Presents: Kevin Drew". The phrasing is clunky and opportunistic, with BSS co-founder and leader Drew cashing in on a beloved brand while also putting his name on the album cover in big letters. But, as exhaustive as it may seem, it's accurate. With its shaggy grace, love-is-life proclamations, and lengthy guest list (23 people, mostly BSS regulars, play or sing on the record), Spirit If… could pass for a relatively low-key follow-up to 2005's blown-out Broken Social Scene. But with Drew taking sole songwriting credit for half of the album's toned-down tracks and covering lead vocal duties on nearly every song, there's also a strong solo vibe. So, in essence, we get Kevin Drew's break-up record, as played by Broken Social Scene; it's a savvy compromise only a collective as familial as BSS could pull off.

While the popularity of Broken Social Scene skyrocketed over the past four years, Drew remained something of an unknown thanks to the group's all-for-one nature and its more magazine-friendly female talents, Leslie Feist and Metric's Emily Haines. But to know Spirit If… is to know Kevin Drew: One-time teenage burn-out, current 31-year-old master of scruff, and lifelong romantic. He hugs audience members during shows, and once described his band's objective to the New York Times Magazine with all the quixotic wonder of a wide-eyed Bono: "We want to affect audiences' hearts and minds with honesty." He's not afraid to include "the kiss in Winnipeg" and "the man who taught me love is free" in his album's laundry list of thank you's. He's a modern hippie, though instead of growing up listening to the Grateful Dead and the Doors, Drew worshiped idols that fall squarely within the classic-rock-subverting indie canon: Sonic Youth, Pavement, and Dinosaur Jr. Consequently, Spirit If… offers jams that don't really jam, acoustic ballads about fights and lies, and lushly orchestrated songs that come together effortlessly while cracking up hopelessly.

Toying with the idea of stops and starts, the record begins with a send-off and ends with a beginning. Alarm-clock opener "Farewell to the Pressure Kids" is a red herring: At first, its blasting intro (stuffed with vibes, avalanche drum fills, stacked guitars, and unintelligible vocals), seems to pick up right where Broken Social Scene's epic closer "It's All Gonna Break" left off. But, after two minutes of organized chaos, the song-- a cryptic exorcism decrying those who "love to hate"-- settles into a homely, quiet groove more indicative of the record's unplugged ambiance. It's the sound of Drew deflating his own bombast in favor of a style that's more personal and direct.

The singer once said 2002's You Forgot It In People "was made with hope" while Broken Social Scene "was made with fear." Spirit If… was seemingly made with pained desperation. On the album, when Drew isn't pining over a "fucked up kid" amidst images of violence and death, he's confessing his sins while lamenting someone who's "too beautiful to fuck." His words can be frustratingly obtuse: "Cats and Christ put you in a tiny box that's filled with all victims," goes one especially head-scratching line. But Drew's random imagery is often translated through straightforward hooks that wisely cut through the dense murk. So while the enlightenment-themed stand-out "Bodhi Sappy Weekend" includes boggling lyrics like, "With our clothes on fire/ I guess we both can wait/ I built an ark for sure," the pleading refrain ("please don't scratch me out") is crushing in its bluntness as it ties the tune together.

The lucidity of Drew's musical influences also lend Spirit If… an understood universality (within indie rock circles, at least): Much of the album could double as an early 90s our-band-could-be-your-life cassette mix. But there's a key difference to, say, Spirit If...'s Dinosaur Jr. tribute "Backed Out on the…" compared to every other Dino-aping rip-off out there: Drew actually recruited J Mascis to spew scalding distortion all over the track. The same first-hand method is employed on the album's only other out-and-out rocker, "Lucky Ones", which boasts some twisting Spiral Stairs-style guitar work from (yep) Spiral Stairs. The indie-star guests are just another example of Drew making the anything-goes BSS collective philosophy work for him-- and a great way to beat name-that-influence critics at their own game.

"The whole idea of starting or finishing something is one of the scariest things in the world to me," Drew told Pitchfork in 2005. Recorded in a hotel room in Norway, the country-style ditty "When It Begins" is a fitting, clear-headed capper to the album that finds Drew facing his fears head-on. "It's gonna be really hard when we get to the end/ Well, you love the start but really it's just to begin," he sings, accompanied by a little strumming and just a few singing Scene-sters. The song's circlular logic is an apt summation of it all-- the album, relationships, bands, tours, etc.-- at once almost naively common and, within the context of the record, disarmingly personal. Then there's the tattooed-heart kicker: "But don't forget what you felt." Confounding yet emotionally bare, derivative yet singular, profane yet child-like, solo yet not so solo, Kevin Drew doesn't shy away from his contradictions on Spirit If…. He revels in them.