KvK in the 1990s: 20 (1999)

Upon sitting down to plan this final post, I struggled to come up with a narrative hook on which to hang my, erm, critical thoughts. I even initially suspected that I’d picked the wrong album, wondering whether I’d need to go back through all of Kinderen voor Kinderen’s 1990s output to find what I really was after. Things come in threes, after all, so it’s not like I could just end my discussion after two albums!

That would surely torment us all with nasty OCD headaches forever and ever.

In 1965, back when rock was young, Bob Dylan managed to piss-off a planet’s worth of sensitive folk music enthusiasts by doing what he bloody-well wanted. He released Bringing It All Back Home, which was half-electric blues rock stompers and half-esoteric acoustic ballads. So, yes, I am comparing a Dutch power-pop album that nobody’s ever heard of to Bob Dylan’s Bringing It All Back Home. But, hey, whoever remembers anything about Dylan “going electric”?!

Cough.

To weigh this post down further with yet another cultural reference, 32 years after Dylan’s controversial-but-groundbreaking album came a little movie by the name of “Titanic”. It was both the worst movie ever made, due to its infantile screenplay, and the best movie ever made, due to its staggering recreation of the sinking of the titular cruise liner. Men hated it. Women pulled their cars over to weep when they heard its promotional single, Celine Dion’s… oh you know what the damn thing’s called! Anyway, the rest of the film’s soundtrack is sprinkled with Celtic tones and rhythms, due to the ethnic diversity aboard the doomed boat, which I believe heavily inspired 20’s production. Everyone alive in 1997 now involuntarily thinks of James Cameron’s sweet money maker (I mean the box office busting film!) whenever they hear traditional Celtic folk music.

Don’t lie, I know you do too.

2 years later… I’m getting there, folks!… we come to Kinderen voor Kinderen’s annual album to soundtrack its live television dance extravaganza, the latter I can take or leave, which surely would have had mealy-mouthed northern lads in England shouting: “Judas!”, had it taken place at Manchester’s Free Trade Hall back on 17 May 1966. Actually, the structure of KvK’s 20 follows that concert quite well, with Dylan’s crowd-pleasing folk numbers coming first, rather than Bringing It All Back Home’s swaggering first half.

I’m not saying the two halves of 20 are the wrong way around, like David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive (which comprises the two pilot episodes of an unrealised TV series presented in reverse order), but I shall quietly place that notion on the table for you, patient reader, to consider. However, for this album, I have decided to discuss the usual opening “Tune Kinderen voor Kinderen” track (which I suspect potential producers record as an audition piece for the larger work), as “Nix” is something of an underwhelming start.

“Tune” is just meant to kick-off the live show, which is why I perhaps-cruelly disregard them in all my KvK discussions. It’s a rather blah song, but 20’s does feel a little more anthemic than usual, with the quality of the drum parts having been paid particular attention to. There’s also a nice spooky dip in the fussy goings on towards the end, which means the vocal crescendo, involving all the singers in the line-up for that year cheering, hits the ear stronger.

00:59 seconds after the start of the album, “Nix” bounces into view with a playground-swing tempo and decidedly minor-key verse melody. The accordion and violin parts boost my Titanic-inspiration theory, while also bolstering the “New Acoustic Movement” sound of the late-90s/early-00s. In English, “nix” translates to: “nothing”, which is something of a drag in itself, with the title echoing from left-to-right in the stereo pan as the song stumbles to a close. I personally think it’s a lovely song, but why it technically opens the album is quite beyond me.

I know I said I didn’t support prominent wind instruments in pop/rock music, but the clarinet or oboe which dominates “Sleutelkind” works tremendously well. The whole thing is the musical equivalent of sinking into a warm bath on a cold day. It also has one of my favourite musical ideas, in which the backing vocalists seem to run out of stamina, leaving the lead singer to complete the choruses alone. I don’t know how to describe it any better, but I love it all the same.

There’s a prestigious history of fun Halloween songs in KvK’s repertoire (golly, it took ages finding out how that word is spelled!), or just “spooky songs”, of which “De Weg Naar School” is certainly one of the spookiest. Its minimalist jazz drums and lurking double bass rhythm are perfect accompaniments to an anxious boy’s 10-minute walk to school every day. The backing vocals even turn on him, emitting ghostly moans and groans, until the song bursts into a desperate run for safety. But even school can be full of “monsters” ready to torment our gentle protagonist.

I feel his pain!

Now “Niet Naar Ierland” is how you start an album! Bright tone. Galloping rhythm. So it being demoted to so far in is something of a shame. Also, its Celtic-vibe is so similar to “Nix” that you will be forgiven for asking: “Wait, haven’t I heard this song already?!”. Honestly, that happened to me. It’s chorus of: “No, no, no! No, daddy, no!”, sung by vulnerable small children, may disturb some listeners. Or make those with a dark sense of humour laugh. It’s your call!

“Ik Zeg Maar Liever Niets” is a fine closer to 20’s first half. It’s very sweet and makes no sudden movements. It belongs on this album and where it sits in the running order. I have nothing more to say to praise or criticise it. What really matters is what follows…

Yes! “Wanneer” finally lights the album up. Not that what has come already has been subpar in any way, it’s just… it’s just… it’s just that “Wanneer” is so-fucking-awesome! And, yes, I am aware I’m using a lot of strong language to essentially discuss children’s music, but you damn well know they would use it too! I’ve tried looking up the song’s lyrics, but without any luck. Perhaps they’re just too raw for the internet to cope with, or maybe that’s just the current heatwave in the UK messing with me. Still, it’s a stomping country rock anthem about a kid wanting… something. Who knows. Who cares. The melody and vocal performance just make you punch the air and demand attention from your parents or legal guardians or whomever is the alpha in your current relationship.

I don’t dance, not even when I’m on fire, but I dance to “Wanneer”. You will too. I guarantee it!

As with Dylan’s “She Belongs to Me”, which served to placate an incredibly unsure audience, so does KvK’s 20 give its listeners “Anders Dan Je Deckt”, a haunting ballad backed by a modulated keyboard part and nylon-string guitar. It’s drab and repetitive, but it soon gets under your skin and becomes compelling. An understated gem! Fortunately, “Praten, Praten, Praten” yanks the album back onto its feet, with a machine gun dance beat and whiplash-inducing vocals. It should certainly bring to mind images of glowsticks and gratuitous shape-throwing. This is a particular favourite of mine, as the lead vocals gradually become more and more modulated as things progress, until the passionate little boy at the centre of it all ends up sounding like a robot. Fabulous! If this were sung by an adult, this effect might be somewhat chilling, but it’s a kid so it’s cute. I chose this experimental number to open one of my personal KvK playlists, so it’s very significant to me.

“Geen Huis Meer” is a heartwarming, mid-tempo rocker at its most perfect. Certainly the emotional apex of 20’s goings on, although the drumstick/click track beat, mixed way too loudly when it appears, feels much too aggressive for such a mild tune. A mistake they couldn’t be bothered to fix, perhaps?! I dunno, but the Gretsch or Rickenbacker rhythm guitars add to the song’s overall vibrant likability.

While “De Saaiste Vader” descends into silliness on more than one occasion, it still includes one of my all-time favourite vocal melodies and performances. The singer truly deserves to be very proud of their work here. The song’s infectious ska beat and P-90 guitar riff makes it bop along pleasantly, but these lighter elements shouldn’t detract from the song’s broader ambition.

And so the “cuteness factor” is upped considerably with “Kijk Joris Nou”. It has nothing grand to say, musically-speaking, it’s just… cute. You know, in that classic KvK way! It’s also as much of a sonic companion piece to the preceding song as “Nix” is to “Niet Naar Ierland”. One could argue “Kijk Joris Nou” does not need to be here, but it is, and you will love every second of it! As you will with “Rusi”, an immensely entertaining grinder about two girls locked in an argument. I just love it to pieces! It serves as 20’s answer to Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues”, and a song you definitely shouldn’t listen to whilst driving or operating heavy machinery.

Involuntary grooving will ensue, so beware!

And then we get to an odd choice of a finale. “Met Carnaval” is a wonderful song and would have made a perfect mid-album highlight, but it just doesn’t work at the end. I’d have selected “Rusi” and “Wanneer” as dual-closers myself, but what do I know?! It’s just more proof that, while there isn’t a single dud on 20, its tracklist is something of a mess. Perhaps some gorgeous homo could provide you with a fan tracklist on the side, but we shall have to see…

Well, there we have it, folks! What I assumed would be the shortest of this series of posts seems to have turned into the longest. I’m blaming you, of course. I don’t know how you’re to blame, but I’m going to blame you all the same. This has taken up an entire day of my life to bash out, but I hope you find it has been worth it. I’m sticking with my Bringing It All Back Home comparison, so you’ll just have to come to peace with that.

I shan’t write a fourth post as an epilogue, feeling the introduction and reviews probably speak for themselves, but please feel free to share your thoughts on this trio of great records!

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Doei!

⬅︎ INTRODUCTION

KvK in the 1990s: 15 (1994)

Onwards a couple of years now, with a somewhat dated-sounding album. Whilst recorded in the mid-90s, it sounds more “80s” than Kinderen voor Kinderen’s actual 80s output. There’s a fundamental lack of warmth to the production, and a reliance on a harsh drum gate. This has the effect of everything sounding “tinny”. I dunno, it’s either something you’re into or something you’re not. And I’m not. Do we have Phil Collins to blame for this? He was the guy who apparently pioneered the drum gate, which drains the longevity and organic vibe from an acoustic percussion section.

Again, you either like it or you don’t.

What always wins me over about 15, however, is its consistently-adorable vocals, heartfelt songwriting, and virtuoso guitar playing. Its reliance on wind instruments, from trumpets to saxophones, I’m not such a fan of. I just think wind instruments should stay out of rock music, and this album does rock quite hard when at its best. The Verve had sexy sax moments on their debut album “A Storm in Heaven” and, well, who on Earth ever listens to that thing?!

This is where I will explain how I experience KvK casually, as it will come up a few times. I basically created a bunch of playlists featuring one album from each decade, removing and shuffling around songs to improve my own personal listening experience. Here’s one of my favourite examples. Sometimes I go through KvK’s albums one-at-a-time, just to remind myself of how they should play-out, but I generally just stick to these playlists, which also give me a narcissistic sense of authorship. For obvious reasons, this is one of the rare times I will be listening to these three albums, including 15, in full.

Anyway, that’s enough admin…

Opening like it knows it’s going to be one of the greatest-fucking-albums ever, “Overture” and “Wind Tegen Wind Mee” (urgh, I wish these titles were shorter!) serve to place the listener on the biggest stage at a music festival, with a sea of arms waving before them as they play air guitar and sing their lungs out. Certainly one of KvK’s most impressive beginnings. Then we’re yanked back, slightly, with “De Wijde Wereld”, which has an abrupt start, but a pleasantly plinky-plonk keyboard part. A solid mid-album track perhaps misplaced here. It does have a great chorus though, so I have to add points to it for that. A real charmer!

“Ik Hou Van Hard” really should have come after the opening two tracks, but hey-ho. Its original title translates to: “I Like It Hard”, which I hope is a Dutch expression lost in translation, as it potentially means something very different in English. Awkward. Still, this is one of the centrepieces (can you have multiple centrepieces?!) on 15, with its well thought out backing vocals being signature KvK stuff, and rival the lead vocals for dominance with aplomb.

“Straf” is the first song I left off my aforementioned album-centric playlist, probably due to its embarrassing chorus. It also includes an interfering adult male vocalist, which KvK has now done away with altogether. “Straf” is pretty dull and cringeworthy, with the trumpets whinging at the listener in a rather abrasive fashion. I do like this album. Honest. It’s just not beginning-to-end perfect. At least we then get the gorgeous “Hier Ben Ik Dan”, a country song for people who don’t like country music. Especially 90s country music, which was not a good decade for country music. I would praise this track as being the emotional core of 15, with me emitting a grateful sigh whenever it begins. Not in that way, you devils! At its heart, it’s a simple ditty about a sensitive young lad who just loves being a “cowboy”. Bless. I even tried to learn the lyrics so I could properly sing along, but my memory is so terrible that I can barely remember my own name half the time. I do believe I have an undiagnosed learning disability, but that’s a story for another day. If you can’t be arsed to listen to any of these songs, please just listen to “Hier Ben Ik Dan, or “Here I Am”. It’s honestly worth taking the time over, even if you’re in the middle of putting out a house fire.

Yikes, where did that come from?!

“Zusje Van Mijn Zus”, along with “Filmverdriet”, offer truly apocalyptic melodies that will send a shiver down your spine. The chorus on “Zusje Van Mijn Zus”, in particular, allows the diminutive vocalist to shine wonderfully. So emotional! The nylon guitar part manages to punch its way through the otherwise-bombastic production. A call to arms, for sure, but I am not inclined to look up the lyrics. I suppose I should, but who honestly has the time?!

Don’t. Say. Anything.

“Mijlenver” keeps things rolling along nicely. Its jogging rhythm sounds like the part that came first, then the rest of the musicians leaped aboard as the song rolled unstoppably forward. I do love the clean, chiming Stratocaster part in this one, with the whole thing just fading out as it loses energy. Nice. Next we get “Dozen”, with the most amiable vocalist yet. It sort of sounds like they’re yawning for 2 minutes 44 seconds, but that’s just how they sound. I don’t have much else to say about it, but that’s not to say there’s anything wrong with it. A solid entry!

Oh crap, here comes “Paniek”, which is simply embarrassingly dated from start-to-finish. I would call it the true dud on 15, so feel free to skip over it with extreme prejudice. Unless you fancy a good laugh, that is.

I’ve already spoken about “Filmverdriet”, which is melodramatic joy, so I’ll quickly move along to “Warrom Hebben Kippen Geen Gebitjes”. This is another rival for being 15’s centrepiece, or I guess it could just be a co-centrepiece. I’m not a competitive person, so I’m happy for songs to share that pride of place. The song starts off very subtly, with little ambition whatsoever, then… BOOM!… it rises to a riveting crescendo, which the backing vocalists completely take over. Also another contender for being one of the album’s openers, so it’s a shame it’s all the way back here.

I don’t know why I usually skip over “Voor De Spiegel”, perhaps due to the heavy saxophone intrusion, but it’s a fine song. I’ll certainly be adding it back to my personal playlist. I guess I was just more conservative when I started my KvK fandom, with an instance of only one third of a particular album passing my critical ear. I was just a different person three years ago!

And then we get the great, great, great “Gangsterdam”, which simply has to be heard to be believed. I’ll let you find out why. The inclusion of the word “sexy” in the looped lyrics certainly wouldn’t be acceptable in the UK, so bless mainland-Europeans for being so, erm, brave. Rap music is usually like fingernails down a blackboard to me, except for when kids do it. It’s just so cute to hear them trying to sound tough and worldly.

Awww, they think they’re people!

Well, that’s two albums down, folks. I’ll take a break for a few days before delving into my writeup of 20. I’m in a weird headspace this week, so struggling somewhat with my depression and alcoholism, but hopefully the final article shouldn’t take too long to appear.

We shall see…

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Doei!

⬅︎ INTRODUCTION⎜20 (1999) ➡︎

KvK in the 1990s: 13 (1992)

I call this one: “The Creepy Cat Album”, due to its striking cover artwork of a feline sporting multicoloured facial fur. I assume Kinderen voor Kinderen chose this individual for his or her similarity to an antiapartheid-like symbol. KvK must have been making some sort of political statement, but I’m not smart enough to figure out what.

13 is the album, out of the three I have chosen to discuss, that finally motivated me to sit down and write this long-gestating post. I just chilled there listening to it yesterday and was all like: “Wow, I need to let the rest of the world know about this tremendous work of art!”.

Seriously. I wasn’t being a sarcastic prick or anything.

I’m going to begin at the end with “Zilvermijn”, a song about child slaves suffering in the titular silver mine digging-up gems for a villainous jeweller. Ho-lee shit. Now that’s dark! It’s lyrical theme is pretty veiled though, so hopefully not quite as disturbing to kids as an adult’s mind might translate it. I guess it could just be about a son or daughter being taken to a jewellery shop for the first time by their parents and the kid having fun playing with the products on display, but I dunno. The minimalist instrumentation, comprising mostly of percussion with sleazy saxophone accompaniment, adds to the haunting imagery. The outro repetition of “necklace” by the backing vocalists, assumedly to bring to mind a neck restraint worn by a prisoner or a noose slung up to deal with rebellious workers, is particularly chilling.

Right, back to the start, only ignoring the usual “Tune” theme, which exists to soundtrack the TV show’s title sequence and is on every album because it has to be.

“Lariekoek En ApeKool” pounds the door open wonderfully, with its energy being a model of how you should begin every damn album. If this doesn’t get you jumping up and down on your sofa or bed or family trampoline, then nothing will! Then we get the shimmering “Als We Jou Niet Hadden Gehad”, which gives one the sense of revolving on a merrygoround again and again and again. The next track, “Volwassen”, is fine, but certainly offers nothing inspired. Not bad. Just a little “meh”. At least we then get the potty and slightly-annoying-but-still-tons-of-fun “De Vlooienmars”, which summons the image of its lead singer sitting at a piano donning a powdered wig.

“Gewoon Te Gewoon” is a sweet, metronomic ballad, with vocals that just barely cope with the song’s requirements. I don’t mind this, as it adds to the “cuteness factor” that is sadly lacking from the polished recent releases. I cannot overemphasise the importance of “Vuur En Vlam” to my love of KvK. Upon listening to Spotify’s algorithm-generated “greatest hits” playlist (which I took and diligently tidied-up), that aided my initial introduction, this is one of the tracks that stood out and made me think: “Oh wait, this isn’t just a disinterested session musician cashing in on the family singalong market, something artistic is going on here!”. It’s a bombastic rock song, with a prominent drum beat and twanging Fender guitars, that will make you stop whatever you’re doing and listen intently.

I’m not one for slower songs, generally speaking, but “Mijn Vader Is Een Ster” is so sweet that I just can’t resist it. Sparse production. Sparse flare. But a charming lead singer, which is most important. “Vierkante Ogen” will send shivers down your spine, what with its hypnotic rhythm and life-changing melody and attention-grabbing guitar riff! A big part of KvK’s sound is its incredibly well thought out backing vocals, showcased no better than with this song. Damn, it’s so cool. It’s a candle-waving centrepiece, for sure!

Then we get some mischievousness with “Roddelkampioen”, which is so much fun, especially with its coquettish central keyboard riff. It also includes yet more amazing backing vocals, which are crucial to the goings on here. Oh and now here comes KvK’s best “calypso” number, tied only with 6’s “Vaders Allergie”, in the form of “Die Kassieklap”. Allow it to transport you to a tropical island, with you lounging or dancing by a campfire on the beach as the sun goes down and sea urchins frolic innocently in the surf.

Nice.

“Gluren Bij De Buren” has an initially-jarring twang to its lead guitar part, but it eventually settles into the background pleasantly. It has a dark melody to it, which is no surprise when you find out that the title translates to: “Peaking at the Neighbours”.

Cough.

Ah, “De Tafel Van Dertiel”, the one true dud on the album. I have nothing to say about it, other than I skip over it every time I listen to 13. It’s just not my sort of thing. And that’s that. So I guess that’s two things I have to say. I feel awful being so negative about a KvK song, but here I am typing these words.

That’s three.

You initially feel “Ik Ben Alles Kwijt” is another subdued ballad, but it erupts impressively into a staggeringly-epic chorus, with the backing vocals once again vying for attention over the lead singer. It’s almost as if I should write a separate post about the backing vocals across KvK’s oeuvre alone. Hmmm…

And so we come back to the end with “Zilvermijn”. About child slave labour. Or something. Anyway, I shall now awkwardly move along to the next album.

Necklace, necklace, necklace…

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Doei!

⬅︎ INTRODUCTION⎜15 (1994) ➡︎

KvK in the 1990s: 13, 15, 20 - an introduction

I now live in fear of moving on from Kinderen voor Kinderen, henceforth referred to simply as “KvK”. This Dutch music collective, producing an album’s worth of music every year for 46 years to soundtrack an annual television dance extravaganza, has gotten me through some traumatic times of late. I discovered them down a Spotify rabbit-hole, as I sombrely searched for something to lighten my mood and provide escapism for a quickly-shrinking personal world.

Fucking intense, huh?

I’ve already written a few articles about them, with each one expecting to be the last. But, here I sit, penning the introduction to yet another. Maybe tomorrow, my cyclothymia will finally shift and make my brain believe it has had enough of awesome Dutch power-pop, but not today. Not today! These are albums featuring lyrical ideas suggested by children, which are then crafted into songs and recorded by a talented staff of revolving door songsmiths, then sung by a gaggle of preteen vocalists. The latter, for reasons I hope I do not need to explain, are also in the studio on a revolving door basis.

After the first decade of dated music hall ditties, written surely to mimic the sound of a tedious school play, the great Henk Temming mercifully produced 1990’s 11, which gave listeners and viewers music that listeners and viewers would actually want to listen to and view. The rest of that decade proceeded to follow suit, including 13, 15, and 20, which I will boldly describe as three of the greatest indie rock albums nobody in the English-speaking world has or will ever hear.

Except for myself. And hopefully you, patient reader.

I would usually cram all my thoughts into one overblown article, but I’ve decided to break things up into multiple posts. I just think one long ramble will be too much. Even for me, the bloody thing’s author.

So, yes, ik ben klaar voor de start, and I hope you are too…

You can find my very simple playlist featuring all three uncut albums here.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Doui!

13 (1990) ➡︎

15 (1994) ➡︎

20 (1999) ➡︎