Amid the saddening news about Moles’s closure in Bath, my monthly pilgrimage to Thekla was a rather romantic one as I pondered the beauty of independent music venues. On this particular evening, jazz and punk fusion Opus Kink were to take to the stage, my heart warmed that the band had opted for a venue held just as closely in the South West’s heart as Moles will always be. Following their riveting performance in May at Dot to Dot Festival, Opus Kink returned to Bristol, bringing with them an ecstatic energy and a night to remember.
As I boarded the boat, my eyes were pleasantly greeted with a set list poster heralding Grandma’s House as the supporting act. Soon after, the trio walked out onto the stage, announcing that this particular evening was to be their first performance at the venue, having played in the city for over 4 years. Switching between the old and new, Grandma’s House provided nothing short of a rioting experience, ‘Always Happy’ and ‘Desire’ igniting the crowd as they prepared themselves to mosh and fling about all limbs. Ending with crowd favourite ‘Body’, Grandma’s House packed a hearty punch, awakening a brooding darkness within the crowd that would later be enhanced by the main act themselves.
With their fusion of jazz and punk, Brighton’s Opus Kink have in recent years been praised far and wide for their experimentation, truly bringing something new to the punk scene. Simultaneously heavenly and devilish in its spontaneous composition and unpredictability, Opus Kink’s musical repertoire perfectly aligns with their indoctrinating, cult-like performance. Religiously-led lyricism provides a purgatory-like state for any listener, who gradually becomes suspended between highness and reality, the music itself sticky sweet and intoxicating. Opus Kink are the morose literary flâneurs walking the cobble-stoned streets of a city at dusk.
Frontman Angus Rogers silences the crowd, biblically raising his hands in Salvator Mundi. A multilayered sound fills the room, with a tidal wave of movement emerging from the centre of the crowd outwards. ‘I Love You Baby’ is rhythmically chanted by those in the front row, as each member of the band flies about the stage as if under an encantation. With ‘Dust’ the crowd becomes utterly consumed by the music, weeping and wailing as they move in sync with one another. Angus Rogers takes a swig straight from the bottle as the lights diminish and are replaced by cosmic rays projected onto the ceiling and the venue’s rafters.
New release ‘Malarkey’ is up next, further tapping into the band’s raw, earthy and original sound. The exhilarating experience becomes too much for certain members of the crowd, who take to removing layers of clothes amidst the damp sweat lingering in the air. ‘St. Paul of the Tarantulas’ causes the biggest surge yet, the keyboardist engulfed by the crowd as he takes to the floor. Cans of Guinness are cracked open as an interlude briefly calms the crowd, followed by track ‘1:18’. The crowd exhausts their last hoard of energy, pushing and shoving with an eagerness to be as close to the band as possible, hands grabbing and waving. As the night ends, Opus Kink’s spectacular darkness lingers across the city, shadowing the street corners as we walk home, helplessly buzzing with adrenaline.
@nevedawsonphotos @_nevedawson
My current role for TBGG is as a Reviewer, Interviewer and Photographer, which I do in my spare time when I'm not studying English Literature and History at the University of Bristol.
I'm available for reviews, previews, interviews and shoots through the company. Alongside TBGG I also write for The So Young, Groupie and Rodeo Magazines, with an aspiration to enter magazine and newspaper journalism focusing on culture and the arts.
What was your first Gig?
The first gig I remember seeing (when I wasn’t dragged around by my metal-head father) was The Killers live in my hometown of Birmingham in 2016. Brandon Flowers’s iridescent cowboy suit still blinds me to this day and echoes glamorous indie rock n’ roll for years to come.
What's your dream Gig?
I would have to say my dream gig would be seeing Hendrix’s star-spangled banner live at Woodstock ’69. Call me cliché but I was born in the wrong generation.
