Brighton based six- piece Opus Kink are no strangers to Nottingham. After recently taking to the Rock City stage to support Do Nothing in September and for their Dot to Dot slot the time before that, their Bodega headline show was a highly anticipated affair. Alice Beard reviews.
It seemed a modest setting to lay host to Opus Kink’s usual antics, but by 7:45 Bodega was already beginning to display some subtle signals of the raucous evening to come. Ready to set the scene for the night came Otala, a band who have established themselves on the Nottingham scene as equally as captivating as they are unashamed to push the bounds of the genres in which they dabble in. Their set was carefully strung together to build a musical fabric that flowed effortlessly in spite of the disorder that lay beneath. Gentle meandering sections were cut short with searing outbursts, Oscar’s vocals providing some direction within the destruction. With tracks such as Mill Grain Throat, we were lured into a false sense of security before being ensnared in a stern assault on the senses. Fin’s intricate drum patterns proved to be the perfect accompaniment to Rory’s discordant, rumbling basslines. All was complete with the provision of Charlotte’s sax to weave in those feelings of grit and dread which encapsulate Otala’s essence. It might have been a short set, but it was by no means any less sweet.
It wasn’t long before Opus Kink were due to baptise us. As the band entered the stage, there was a collective breath as the audience prepared for a night of mucky, floor stomping tracks. Kicking it all off with new track Sunday Shoes, the six- piece brought forth their grimy abstract energy that has by now become well- established on the scene. By the second track I Love You Baby, the place was already beginning to fill with a rising heat that was stifling enough to lull you into a trance- if you weren’t already in one, that is.
The crowd were relatively tame compared to other shows I’ve witnessed. It wasn’t until we were a few songs deep that the crowd steadily began to writhe, but the band revelled in it regardless. Rogers demanded attention, debauching the unsuspecting crowd with a manic glare. From behind the keys, Jazz Pope could just about be seen thrashing and flailing to the perpetual marching beat provided by drummer Fin Abbo. From the minute they hit the stage, they became masters of their craft.
"Rogers demanded attention, debauching the unsuspecting crowd with a manic glare"
The night’s set was filled to the brim with tasty new tracks, unpeeling a fresh new layer of depth and darkness. Just when I thought they couldn’t get any better! We were still treated with some occasional old favourites, Wild Bill and This Train providing a welcome dosage of unadulterated mischief to the evening. Only the addition of 2019 single Mosquito could have made their setlist any better, but I admit that was wishful thinking on my behalf.
The opening chimes of Dust brought clattering filth and fury, the penetrating groans of the brass section slashing through the thick mud of noise. Each beat of the drums delivered a guttural punch to the system. At last we rose to the sing-along finale, a palpable camaraderie between band and audience being reached. As if this excitement wasn’t already enough, then came another treat as we were given a taste of another new offering, I Wanna Live With You.
The brass section soon took a turn from seductive to sinister with the following track Malarkey. This brief excursion led us with a firm grasp through the darkness with its slouching bassline, courtesy of Sam Abbo. The Unrepentant Soldier dragged the mood swiftly from the grime, but it was St Paul of the Tarantulas, as always, that became the highlight of the evening. The opening keys were ready to devolve into madness from the moment they crept onto the stage, summoning a roaring display from the crowd below with remarkable ease. It was a thing of pure beauty, the boldly flirtatious grooves gripping the audience in a state of bliss until the very end.
"Ominous synths and unrelenting drums were met by the baleful hum of the rising choral chants which spilled from the crowd"
We were swiftly knocked sideways with yet another new track, Crucify, as means of preparation for the ghostly ritual that was 1:18. Splitting the floor, Rogers entered the crowd to conduct a scene of menace and glory in equal measure. The space was stark. Ominous synths and unrelenting drums were met by the baleful hum of the rising choral chants which spilled from the crowd. Rogers observed the chaos he had so naturally cultivated with a triumphant grin, the carnage growing steadily by the second.
The night was brought to a steady conclusion with a cover of The Pogues’ A Rainy Night in Soho in tribute to the late, great Shane MacGowan. The crowd slowed to a hush. The atmosphere was not one of melancholy, but of poignance. Performing the song with a softness and restraint to contrast the fervent intensity seen mere moments before only helped to solidify the notion that Opus Kink are a band that really can do it all. With that, the band exited, leaving the audience to ponder on a lingering presence that remained in the room.
The band proved a tough act to fault, hurtling through every song with an abrasive energy that never seemed to falter. Their soundscape was just as wonderfully bewildering live as it is on record. Opus Kink provide a feast of plenty, take a bite and enjoy.
Alice Beard
Edited by Alice Beard
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