ALBUM HIGHLIGHTS – “Come Over, Do Me Wrong”, “The Sweet Goodbye”, “I Have to Shine My Sunday Shoes”, “Crucify!”
Opus Kink sound like nobody else. To call them “jazz punk” is to massively oversimplify it. In fact, there’s not much traditionally “punk” about them. If anything, it’s “noise rock”, but with traces of almost every other genre you could name. The band boast additional influences of no wave, post punk, global groove, afro beat, garage rock, country twang, Latin, cabaret, dark synth, choir choruses and improv. Here, you can hear all of it. Formed in Brighton in 2017, their manic muddle of sounds mirror previous eccentric sonic experiments by artists like the Talking Heads, Mescaleros and PiL. Then, there’s the 1970s overspill of avant-garde art rock, and the macabre baritones of Leonard Cohen and Nick Cave. The sextet have previously released three EPs – but their debut album, The Sweet Goodbye, finally arrived via SO Recordings, on 31st July 2026.
Opener “Come Over, Do Me Wrong” offers a moody but seductive introduction to the LP. The horn section’s unpredictable rhythms give off a “smoky room” feel. After post-chorus teases of synths, sax squeals and piercing guitar shards, the brass turns feral as it descends into a mid-song, swamp-like collapse. Piercing Latin trumpet leads the charge, before the ominous yet infectious indie chorus returns, instruments now at full pelt – accenting baroque pop tones, to finish. Vocals wouldn’t be out of place in some kind of Lost Shadow Puppets mutation. Lyrics are delivered with deep, brooding effect, a salute to the legendary Leonard Cohen, one of the band’s biggest influences. In fact, you can just imagine the smouldering gloom-poet delivering the track’s opening line: “I try like any good man / To distinguish my boredom from pain”.
“Will It Come for You?” features a gothic bass intro, soon accompanied by dramatic, Spaghetti Western guitar twang. The midsection vocals have a deadpan, Peter Murphy style – before lurching into a beautiful breakdown of nightmarish sounds, evolving from tender whispers to demented wails. The group’s country persuasion is more evident in the guitar lines of next track: “I’m a Pretty Showboy”. An intense, Bauhaus edge creeps back in during the track’s latter half, a noisy wall of sound recalls PiL, and vocals even hint at Bowie. You can never quite predict where it’s going next: between gothic backbeat, volume fluctuations and echoey, elongated vocals.
One of the instant standouts is the title track: imagine “Red Right Hand” crossed with “You Want It Darker”. Beginning with a clattering anvil, it’s steel works meets 80s synth, accidentally falling into a country western and ending the night in a jazz club. With an interesting mix of cross-generational sounds, instruments mirror an unnerving carousel midpoint, enhanced by a deep, monastic chant.
Next, is “Peckham Nocturne”: a cinematic, “last orders” interlude. With minimal crooning vocals, it’s largely instrumental but never a boring filler track. It’s smoky, sleazy and pure film noir. Think: muted trumpet, swishing percussion, suave jazz licks and a grooving bassline. You can just imagine it featured in a grimy opening scene from Peaky Blinders, with Tommy Shelby prowling a 1920s, soot-ridden Birmingham street before striding into the whiskey-soaked Garrison pub. Although, this could point to another of the band’s most obvious influences: fellow Brighton inhabitant and all-round gothic phantom Nick Cave – whose music is now synonymous with the award-winning TV series.
More of his influence can be heard in next track “I Have to Shine My Sunday Shoes”. There’s something reminiscent of Kasabian in the catchy, languid verses, before they’re joined by tons of big brass retro swing and heightened vocals. The use of continual, pulsing synths is interesting, reimagining a state-altered, dizzying timelapse from a movie scene.
Probably the most interesting number, “The Head Tree”, features fellow Brighton natives, folk-punk quartet the New Eves. Though not my favourite track of the bunch, it evokes some kind of Wicker Man fever dream – fitting, really, as frontman Angus Rogers revealed the track is centred around Alice Molland, the last woman hanged for witchcraft in 1865 England. Despite its theme, synths war with whining guitar and dirty brass against tinges of folk and world music, to create a modern sound with clean, sharp production – as the song takes off with a colourful, carnivalesque flavour. If the New Eves’ warbling vocals aren’t for you, you’ll still be able to appreciate the hysterical monologue that slowly intensifies with the same level of mania you could expect from Patti Smith. It’s a direct reference to a shamanic passage from medieval Welsh poem “The Battle of the Trees” – where the protagonist recalls taking on many past forms and enchanting a forest to fight as his army against underworld forces: “I’ve been a tear in the air / I’ve been the dullest of stars / I’ve been a word among letters / I’ve been a book in the origin”. The whole track is an emotive rollercoaster, perhaps the one that grows on you most. Only after a couple of listens do you fully appreciate its ingenuity.
The band use what researchers have dubbed “the ugliest colour in the world” as a metaphor for love in “448C (The Colour of Love)”. In case you were wondering: it’s a brownish-olive colour. It earns its title from the association with dirt and decay – even used on tobacco packaging at some point, as a consumerist deterrent. The track is chaotic, theatrical and unpredictable – but a lot of fun trying to predict where they’re going to land next, amid vocal effects, splintering guitar scales and eerie art-punk stims. By now, we’ve learned that Opus Kink are especially good at making an impact with their midsections. This one is decidedly creepy: with distorted guitar, cloistral backing vocals and minor piano scales. Building cries, high-pitched and distorted, unintentionally nod to Radiohead’s Kid A. Overall, it’s a fabulous feast of electro-jazzified noise rock.
The album’s masterpiece, “Crucify!” is a commentary on the absurdity of putting yourself up on stage as a performer, acknowledging its highs and lows. It’s a song of two halves. The first is characterised by filthily funked up world music, later decelerating into a part soulful chorus chant, part old-time cabaret of “Crucify me now!”, as we fully submerge ourselves into this glorious rock’n’soul church. Initially, it takes the same shape as the familiar religious melodies of Leonard Cohen, and escalates into a soulful, gospel improv that Lou Reed would be proud of.
Album closer “Oh, Irony” is a sobering, “Hallelujah” meets “My Way” ballad that feels both exhausting and cathartic. The shift into 1980s melancholic synthwave carries a Stranger Things vibe, giving you the same sad feeling of nostalgia you get at Christmas. The late-night, lighters-in-the-air finale feels wholesome, even as the lopsided brass fanfare ends on a predictably skewed, cold-turkey finish. It’s Opus Kink to a tee.
Since The Clash’s Sandinista, I don’t think an album has successfully juggled so many conflicting genres with such ease. Opus Kink manage perfect musical control, even whilst unravelling at every turn. The listening experience of something so unconventional is refreshing and easily cements this record as one of this year’s most innovative and memorable.
