To better understand Toronto’s Kiwi Jr., it might help to understand what they aren’t.
They’re hilariously funny, but never jokey. Sure, you’ll crack a smile when they rhyme “seven-point spread” with “severed head” or open a song with “We are legends of horror with ‘70s breasts.” But they’re not just going for laughs. Jeremy Gaudet’s lyrics contain the same type of wry humor you’d hear from writers like Lou Reed, Elvis Costello or Warren Zevon, thoughtful and observational while always putting the songs first.
They’re clever, but not cynical. There’s a sort of undeniable spiritual throughline from Kiwi Jr. to a strain of ‘90s and early aughts alternative rock like Pavement, Beck and Grandaddy. They’re like a funhouse mirror with riffs, with a knack for writing about how absurdly mundane life and culture have become in these not-so-roaring ‘20s, an era where you can sing lines like “I got plans to build my house/A great big house out in the country/16 terabytes of land/Asterisk and ampersand” and it somehow doesn’t sound like absolute nonsense.
They’re cool, but they care. This has got to be the most endearing thing about Kiwi Jr. In spite of all the humor and irony, they genuinely give a shit. They’re never aloof. All of these songs contain an incredible amount of effort and heart, and you can feel it. There’s an emotional resonance to songs like “Photos of the Reenactment” for anyone who lived in one of those “small towns with a great big open secret.” There’s a genuine, sincere interest in people and all of their best, worst and weirdest qualities.
If you’re looking for an entry point for Kiwi Jr., go straight to their brand new album, the fantastic Blowin’ Up. It’s got all of the wordy, snarky charm that made the first three releases great, but this time around they’re a little bit rowdier and, dare I say, riotous?
Waking up before noon isn’t for everyone, but you’ve got a great reason. Catch Kiwi Jr. when they open the Roots Stage at 12:00 PM on Saturday, September 19.
[yarpp]
