Kitchens: Cynicism, Bitterness

If your rock band is good enough to survive indefinitely but will never be the next big thing, you might become a bit discouraged and cynical. At which point you can either pack it in or, like Kitchens of Distinction, put on a show that pivots on your discouragement and cynicism.

At the Roxy on Monday, singer-bassist Patrick Fitzgerald placed the veteran English alternative-rock trio’s songs in the framework of a getting-through-the-day narrative, which he related with droll, self-lacerating wit.

Getting worked over by the record company, desperately seeking one-night stands, Fitzgerald’s beleaguered but determined rock-dreaming Everyman is forever emboldened and lubricated by alcohol, and then he has to pay that price. (Fitzgerald is gay, but while he brings a subtle sense of that perspective to the songs, most of the lyrics are gender-neutral and it’s never a big issue.)

There’s something bracing about his bitterness, his impatience with false optimism, but the music can’t quite carry the weight they want to load onto it. It never finds the artistic focus or pop economy of such kindred spirits as Morrissey, Bowie and U2. The words spill out in a rush, and the music is on the gray, unmemorable side.

On stage, though, it overachieved, thanks to the intense interplay of the three musicians and especially to the heroic, inventive work of guitarist Julian Swales, a slightly built, rockabilly-looking lad who continuously conjured all manner of ringing atmospherics, skittering cross-rhythms and grandly spiraling leads.