This is the band at their most deranged, their signature triumphant sleaze giving way to the compellingly wretched.

Emerging from the simmering cistern labelled ‘Opus Kink’ comes ‘1:18’, the latest ominous dispatch from forthcoming EP ‘My Eyes, Brother!’ A minute’s steady build, hurried along by Fin Abbo’s insistent snare roll, accompanies a lead vocal from Angus Rogers unlike any of his previous work. His speak-song is fevered with helpless pain building to an indignant intensity where it sounds distinctly like his tongue wagging drunkenly out of his mouth. “Baby’s alright, she’s got a real man beside her / And I am on a chain held in his warm hand”. This is not the anaemic anguish of Rogers’ notorious tour-cancelling spleen rupture, but some twisted pathetic mutation of a bygone heroism. ‘1:18’ could have been discovered dying on the futile beaches of Gallipoli, sand sticking to an open wound.

Far from the triumphant sleaze that Opus Kink have made their own, this recording is abject rather than sexy in its primality. The horns groan, the synths fizz, and Rogers screams along holding on for dear life. Even the singalong “yeah yeah yeah” of the chorus is strangled, almost blackly sarcastic, as it bounces off the peaks of the Jed Morgans/Jack Banjo Courtney horn combination. At once claustrophobic and expansive, this song is a battlefield which Opus Kink storm through, coming out the other end with perhaps their most unhinged recording to date.