My first question at the club is always the same: are these people completely random? Have they not just wandered here by chance, on a rainy Saturday night? Because I often think they have. They do not care about Toronto or that sweet middle-eight. They are here for the experience. For the vibe. For the power chord that will slap them across the face. The rock critic. The drug addict. The punk. It does not really matter who you are in a club.
And it certainly does not matter in Stroomhuis, a small music venue in Eindhoven. It is a lovely, ramshackle club with a small bar and gaudy drawings of skeletons on the walls. It is a lonesome building in the centre of the Dutch city, and it looks like a place haunted by the ghosts of unsung rock and roll heroes. I can almost smell these ghosts in the abrasive chords of the Dutch band Real Farmer who are the opening act tonight. They dress casually (almost excessively so), they bring to mind either Fugazi or The Fall, and there is something bittersweet about their performance. They are good - but you are distracted, you keep thinking about those ghosts.
I am enjoying this, down to the awkward silences between songs and the timid joke about bicycles (no one here cares for bicycle jokes anymore). They can play. The guitar solo at the end of "Cooler Returns" is recreated with absurd efficiency, and "Downtown Area Blues" sounds powerful and is every bit the perfect closer for a club concert. Still, I would argue that the entire charisma of Kiwi Jr. lies in the tunes and not in the personalities which never really ignite during the one-hour set. They never grow into the dysfunctional setting of Stroomhuis, but at some point at the end of the show the melodic genius of "Waiting In Line" does get through to the beery Dutch hearts. Me? I just think they write some of the best songs in the world.
What I hate about clubs is how they start playing music the moment the band steps off the stage. Somehow, it cheapens the effect, renders everything meaningless and mundane. Perhaps it is, but that makes me think about Kiwi Jr. and how they failed to fit in. Their songs are timeless, timeless and out of time, and the little Dutch club could never accommodate that. Not in a million years. And so Kiwi Jr... They will not be returning here as ghosts, either. Quite simply, they are too good for that.
