BRNS - Live - Photo by O Donnet

Photo by O. Donnet

The King of Bottles reigns upon a kingdom you wouldn’t really care about. It’s a state of the forgotten and left behind he clothes with his robe, the singled out within a twilight-zone. And it’s not you he’s smiling at. It’s the gentle laugh of a precocious mind: mocking your fucking ignorance, your factoid allusions to a happy life.

Then, in front of a music-club in Berlin he roams the masses. Picking up fragments of conversation: Whats the appropriate solution for an urban male to carry along his belongings? The worn out jute bag? Or even better: a very tiny back-pack? Is the MAC DEMARCO show today already sold out? Is he using conditioner or is it a natural curl? Are there any tickets left? Has anyone an update on the Campions-League finals? No? And while right-wing parties get their grip on Europe’s neck, is it the Rock ‘n’ Roll Nightclub you really wanna fuck-around at?

But he catches attention of something else. Like a meerkat on guard scanning the area. There! Down the street. Another great deposit of wealth, highly prized for its beauty and perfection. And here, inside, another show just started: BRNS. This energetic four-piece from Belgium has already gone half way through their set as the King of Bottles slowly trudges along. He couldn’t care less: The band on stage works their instruments precise and on point. There is a lot of sweat and wide armed physique. Rich in detail and multi-structured, the songs are heavy on percussion and build up to anthemic height. The Story of Bible and Mexico take turns like scared up bunny rabbits on a traffic island. The cue: cathartic effect. As an organ softly hums and strobe light dazzles the absentminded audience, all of a sudden the door swings open: WU LYF and the WOLF PARADE come crashing in, blazing a trail of destruction, raping the bartender, smacking the smiles off the BRNS-fans faces, screaming and shouting, getting on stage, taking over the stunned Belgian bands instruments and play a furious encore: ‘When the show is over, we all are gonna go see THE fuckin’ HORRORS Dj-Set at Bang Bang Club!’ – the raging Spencer Krug (of WOLF PARADE) declares. ‘It’s just 10 lousy Euros if you’re not on the guest list – HAHA.’ And off they were again, out on the streets of Kreuzberg, up for witnessing a very boring night to come.