Grisly genre-fusion of Opus Kink returned to the ye old faithfuls of Nottingham for a packed headline show at 200-cap Bodega.
OHh, St. Paul of the Tarantulaaaas: Opus Kink are right now, seemingly in a world of their own set out to conquer. Fusing the grisly tales of both filthy punk and horn-induced jazz, comes to a unique fusion of anything you’ve ever heard before. If Madness took a turn from their ska-pop revival and derailed into The Roxy instead, I’ve assured myself that it would’ve been Opus Kink evidently spat out.
An immersive frontline of horns and synths and cathartic energy unequalled on the live circuit, bring about a band in the post-punk scene that everyone has been talking about. They were here in Nottingham not too long, in fact. Taking residence in Rock City for their afternoon slot during this years’ Dot To Dot Festival, a day festival showcasing the best works in the quirky and alternative. As luck would have it (or no luck at all), this show they performed in May resulted in their December show being sold out in the same week it was announced on sale. A truly magnetic showing of them at their best, many fans were made that day in the rammed 2,000-capacity venue.
I had wondered if the same band would show up to their Notts headline show, or if the lethargy of touring on the road had taken a toll on the them. I needn’t have been disappointed.
Local heroes Otala opened up the night – never an easy thing to do – but sustained the level of music and piqued the gig-goers’ interest with their chewy freeform jazzy prog-chords and Black Country-esque spoken poetry. With Tell The Bees leading the fray, a blitzing opener was called to an otherwise highly anticipated night.
Bleary-eyed and stirred up with angsty excitement and temperament, the blaringingly loud six-piece contorted and connived through a 14-track setlist of their best efforts to date.
Firm favourites of I Love You, Baby and Dust were fired out back-to-back while newcomer Piping Angels was equally well-received packed crowd. Certified rip-roar banger of St Paul of the Tarantulas split the crowd in two, as sweat and Guinness filled the non-existent air. A lively powerhouse on the verge of falling apart, the band reeled over their instruments as each blast lent in on one another, arguing over which one can play the loudest. A brand new song (seemingly written in the green room before the show) This Train was also played to the adoring hearts of Nottingham; another fruitful rush that is equally addictive and equally Opus Kink-like in all its qualities. The night was drawn in to a close before they restrung, got themselves together and played a wonderful rendition of Rainy Night in Soho by The Pogues. A fitting tribute to a man who we have seemingly known all our lives but never got the opportunity to meet.
mvm 
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