Album Review: Opus Kink - 'My Eyes, Brother!'
Opus Kink blow their own wheels off with their new EP: ‘My Eyes, Brother!’.
Where to begin with Opus Kink? This genre-spanning miasma of unbridled rapture is picking up new fans at every turn, though no one knows what to call it. Some say Jazz-Punk. Some say Ska (because “it’s got a trumpet”...) . One fan recently referred to them as Goth-Salsa, which the band seemed to enjoy, but none of these descriptions truly fit. This band invited us outside of the boxes, to a place no label could adequately define. What began as a jazz band has evolved into something else entirely. They feel like a bag of broken things that when combined, fit together in the most rapturous collision of genre we’ve heard in a long time.
The first thing we hear are the sauntering drums of the opening track; ‘Chains’, which has been making the rounds for some time as part of the band’s live show, accompanied by Sam Abbo’s snake-hipped bass line. Brass explosions writhe and twist atop the groove, intensifying the vibe, whilst frontman Angus Rogers announces himself, “Here I come”, and my oh my are we ready. The initial grooves and sounds are all in familiar territory for these guys, yet contrary to the opening title’s suggestion, there will be no shackling of Opus Kink.
Next we’re confronted with the jaunty intensity of ‘Dust’, the first single release from this EP, which feels like it would slot fairly comfortably onto the Clash’s Sandinista album. It’s hard not to draw comparisons between Angus Rogers and Joe Strummer, the similarity in vocal delivery and Mariachi-inspired brass lines are hard to ignore, but never do this band feel like a rip-off. Their music, and the intent behind it, are unmistakably original, brimming with Latin grooves and a whole host of influences it seems superfluous to list here. Let’s just say there’s a broad spectrum of inspiration, which becomes apparent as the dust gives way to cabaret, “That’s just how it is baby, how it will be”. We’re being derailed, as is always the danger with this band. It feels wonderful. This train is bound for insanity, everyone’s invited.
Before we delve into the next track, a short interlude; one of many dotted throughout this release which serves to maintain an air of haunting intensity. This band will not leave you alone. ‘Tin of Piss’ leads us into ‘Malarkey’; a moody lurch into the swamps, reminiscent of The Amazing Snakeheads, whom I miss greatly. Opus Kink have filled that hole in my heart, y’know, that space reserved for the perverse pleasure of having an intense, debauched, snarling man lean over you as they threaten to leave the stage and assault the crowd. They never do (assault you, I mean), but Dale Barclay scared me back in the Snakehead days. Angus Rogers does too. Yet I always trusted them both, trusted their artistic intent and their innate need to terrify. Both lean on humour to undercut the intensity, which relieves you somewhat from your fears, letting you know that you are safe here, though sometimes it feels far from it...
By the time we reach ‘Piping Angels’ (track 6 of the onslaught), we’re ready for anything. The raucous energy returns, spilling out over a mind-punishing freak-beat, stomach dropping bursts of intensity offset by Rogers’ sardonic love for the strange. “Death is simply the best garnish for life”. The lyricism across the Opus Kink repertoire is a thing of twisted beauty. Their songs are full with wry one-liners like this, buried among stories which sound as though they’ve been dug up from a completely different era. “Everything I write is just about me and us today, but the paintbrush ends up being f*cking cowboys or Roman emperors or people dancing the Tarantella.”
‘1:18’ to bring this sonic circus to a close. Gentle now, in the beginning, but not for long. A slow build with an insistent pounding of the drums, pushing us toward what must be another explosion into the madness. Not this time. They drop into the groove, make themselves a bed from which they can narrate the nightmare. They soon set that bed on fire, the inferno blazes as you feel the threads that tie this band together being torn to their limits. You can feel their musicality, there is more than just noise here, but strange textures and collective screaming push the finale past the point of polish and perfection, into the wilderness of sonic and energetic exploration.
So, my original question; where to begin with Opus Kink? You could start with this release, or their previous EP ‘Til The Stream Runs Dry’. You could just force yourself down to see them live and take it from there. This is one of the best bands I’ve ever seen. The energy, the aggression, the wit. Tongue-in-cheek, tender and abrasive. It’s Jazz. It's Punk. It’s Pop but it’s not. It’s completely bizarre yet immediately familiar. It’s sexy, it’s anti-sexy. It’s everything.
Words by Reuben Jones Nall
