The New York Observer takes a peek inside Pitchfork and how it’s become such a trendsetter. The article points to the Arcade Fire as an example of Pitchfork’s ability to launch unknown bands into the stratosphere. Broken Social Scene, another Canadian darling, was one of the first bands to benefit from the Pitchfork effect; Paper Bag Records even saw fit to put an excerpt from Pitchfork’s review on the album’s slipcover packaging. Of course, with Broken Social Scene out of the limelight for the moment, it’s easy to forget that its members are always out and about; Stars and Metric happen to be the two active satellites of the Broken Social Scene empire at the moment, but another album is apparently in the works.

It almost doesn’t matter, though, because I find it highly unlikely that the band-cum-collective will ever be able to put to record anything as gripping as “Anthems For A Seventeen-Year-Old Girl.” Probably the track that introduced most people to Broken Social Scene, it’s also the band’s best song—and that says a lot, sitting beside tracks like “Cause = Time” and “Almost Crimes.” But “Anthems” is a world unto itself, and even with the benefit of two years distance there’s still nothing you can really compare the song to. Emily Haines’ vocal performance is stunning, adding a delicate touch to the fragile beauty of the song. The layers of effects over her voice slowly disappear over the course of the song, until finally it’s practically stripped bare, leaving only a vulnerable little girl.

The world “Anthems” paints feels like one permanently painted in shades of sepia, a teenager’s restless memories conjured out of a rustic dustbowl. It’s a song that seems to ache with longing, especially as the final verse kicks in with the almost rhythmic repetition of “park that car / drop that phone / sleep on the floor / dream about me.” And it’s probably a song you’ll wish you could hear again for the first time.