With the November weather attempting to do its worst our third time at Le Guess Who? began in a low key fashion tonight. A return to the fantastic Jenskerk, to see the festival's opening act Hildur Gudnadottir perform her mix of cello and experimental pop, was the first stop. A fitting location for the ethereality of the music and one that pulled in a full-sized crowd.

Making use of a bike this year proved to be the wise move its always been touted as (although it does help to read your map correctly) so the trip to see Eric Chenaux in the Tivoli Vredenburg's Pandora hall took no time at all. Bringing to mind the work of Robert Wyatt with his warbling falsetto his was an interesting and warm start to the Constellation Records curated element of this year's festival.

Back to the Jenskerk for another packed-out show next. Last week's Paris horrors will obviously be in people's minds throughout this weekend (Eric Cheanaux had already mentioned the festival as providing a break from the tension there) and for this, the last night of her tour, Julia Holter's response was to put music to a poem by Karen Dalton. You could have heard a pin drop in the hush that marked its playing. 

Squeezing back out through the crowd and past the queue at the door it was back up the road to the Groete Zaal of the Tivoli for the first of tonight's major German acts. The Notwist have somehow missed out on major success in the UK (not that I expect they lose sleep over that) but it's bewildering why that is the case. Given their ability to write indie gems worthy of the likes of a rockier Teenage Fanclub as well as a raft of material that recalls (or even pre-dates) Wilco at the more experimental end of their own scale they should by rights have swept all before them. With their binary lights and pounding performance they'll just have to remain a favourite of those in the know for the time being.

Saltland were next on the list for us but upon climbing the stairs to Pandora we were met by the crowd streaming out some 12 minutes early by our reckoning. A quick look at the programme showed there was time to fit in the unknown The Homesick, part of the the Subbacultcha Presents slice of the festival, over at Ekko. They were tonight's revelatory act. Laddish post-punk from a Dutch trio clearly very at home in the live setting and going down a storm with the home crowd. Bags of energy and talent aplenty on display.

Majical Cloudz were the final act at the Jenskerk tonight. Whilst rather bizarrely not drawing in the same keen crowd as the earlier performers they managed to make far better use of the excellent acoustic properies of the ex-church than for whatever reason Julia Holter had been able to. Having it seemed arrived from Canada during the day Devon Welsh (bearing very fair comparison to David Byrne) apologised a number of times for having little in the way of chat but whether jetlagged or due to having other concerns on his mind his and Matthew Otto's performance was flawless. 'Are You Alone?', 'Heavy' and 'Childhood's End' all featured in the set and it's hard to think of a place where they could have come over any better.

Reconstituted krautrock pioneers Faust were next on the agenda. True to their roots there was a theatrical element in the shape of three knitting girls at the front of the stage. Beginning with a tribute to the victims in Paris and beyond theirs was a thunderous performance of a far more industrial nature than expected but one ideally suited to the cavernous space of the Groete Zaal. Managing to make a hurdy gurdy sound like an air raid siren & harbinger of doom was a particularly evocative part of their dramatic show.

A quick train ride up to the far flung DB's brought the first hiccup of the night as, due to timings seemingly being close to an hour out of kilter, The Great Communicators were not that far into their set rather than The Mysterons just getting ready to take to the stage. Vigorous and sweet-voiced indie from the Amsterdam/Hague quintet was a pleasure to take in nevertheless and they're undoubtedly not the only band appearing over the weekend who, if things go well, can enjoy wide appeal outwith Holland.

Given the train times the only option was to finish the night back in Pandora for a final dollop of Canadian entertainment in the shape of Ought. Live it turns out that frontman Tim Darcy's performance is a curious mix of Jarvis Cocker's sinuousness married to Mark E. Smith's vocal mannerisms, a combination that makes it hard to take your eyes off him. The floor of the hall was packed so they were keenly received by the vast majority of the crowd but for me there was something lacking in terms of the transition of the material from Sun Comes Down and its predecessors from recording to live. Maybe the balcony wasn't the best place to appreciate them from. Nevertheless it was well past the witching hour & so time to head off.

“You are all Johnny,” she shouts, after she has passionately delivered a plea for freedom, against corporations, for peace, against this corruption that is tainting this world. “Use your voice”, she yells out, as the guitar is strumming this up-tempo riff that doesn’t really get the audience dancing since most people are in their fifties, sixties, possibly seventies. Which makes sense, since it is the 40th anniversary of Patti Smith’s iconic album Horses. And by the looks of it, the audience not only bought it on release, but they remember it, too. They remember the heartfelt plea for freedom, and the honest, pure ode to those who have died. And despite it being forty years later, Smith being forty years older, and despite that this celebration of the forty year anniversary has been going on for a good couple of months, Smith still manages to eloquently and wholeheartedly stand by her message.

“Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine,” it’s one of those opening lines that is timeless. Just as the evocative imagery of Johnny banging his head against the lockers, the trampling of the white horses, and the boy asking his dad to take him with him. As the pretty young girl is humping on the parking meter, Jimmy Morrison is ascending with Prometheus wings to the next chapter of maybe not even life, but existence. As Johnny is starting to feel the energy, the band dives into Gloria again, a moment that manages to elicit the cheers of all whose bedtime would have past on any other day of the week. No bedtime, no rules and regulations, they are just words tonight. And tonight, it’s one of those nights that belongs to us, which she and her band play in the encore. Would she know that, in this country, a dance version of that anthemic song charted back in the Nineties?

Patti Smith still exudes vibrancy, and she reminds us that we, too, should feel Life. Alive. We need to Live. Feel. Love. And fight, too, but not with bombs, or guns, but with the one thing we have more of. Human kindness. She kisses her guitar after saying that this is the only weapon we need, that we bring peace with poetry, art, and songs. “And it never runs out of ammunition”, she says, breaking every string on it when they are at the tail end of a cover of ‘My Generation’ which, along with The Velvet Underground, gets a shout-out. The latter which is done by her band as she takes a momentary break from the action. After disappearing briefly, she arrives back, waiting in the wings, just in time to watch appreciatively, proudly as her son goes off on a guitar solo.

Someone else’s son, buttoned-up in a neat, white shirt, leans on his dad’s shoulders on the staircase near the side, which is full of people trying to get a bit of a height advantage in the sold-out Tivoli Vredenburg venue. As Patti Smith comes back the fresh faced lad cheers, singing that the night belongs to lovers, and when Patti leaves he gives her a wave. Sure, the 44 euro price point might have been slightly too steep for those still learning about life, love, and lost instead of having already experienced it (and having, you know, a paying job), but the message that both the album forty years ago, as well as Patti Smith tonight, throws out there is still just as relevant.

And as the teenage boy leaves the venue tugging on dad’s sleeve, having witnessed such a strong, charismatic, and honest spokesperson, who knows, maybe the future might heed the warning after all. Being an individual, free from corruption, war, and manipulation, when brought so convincingly and artistically, sounds like a pretty good deal for any generation, let alone the one yet to define itself. It’s something that Patti Smith would surely be happy about, people continuing the fight and at the end she reminds us that we, the people, have the power. Tonight she made a hell of a case that we should never forget that.