Hell’s favourite band lead a phantasmagorical flex of the city’s musical wealth, joined by KEG and The New Eves.

Last month, the fans of Opus Kink were presented with these enigmatic, foreboding words of encouragement:

“Brighton, let’s all join hands and weep this December. Baby, I’m Cold Inside and I want YOU to have that too! No more suffering in silence. Shout it to the plucking sea wind!”

The cold season is indeed upon us, and Brighton dwellers, courtesy of that icy sea breeze, are particularly affected. Luckily, our fine city has a rich music scene that, in recent years, has been generating a fiery plume of talent that distracts and dispels notions of dropping temperatures and blanket ridden nights in.

Last Tuesday was one such occasion, boasting a glistening array of the city’s favourites from three separate generations of Brightonian noise makers:

 The New Eves, currently local legends, borne from the ashes of lockdown and currently taking Britain by storm with their own brand of magic.

 KEG, Brighton’s favourite post-punk/big band fusion, whose music only grows in intricacy and musicality as time marches on.

And of course…

Opus Kink, the illustrious ne’er-do-wells who seem to only move from strength to strength, finding new and daring ways to smelt their mysterious ore combining wafts of punk, jazz and glam while constantly insisting upon a doomy maximalism.

Kicking off the show, The New Eves delivered a remarkable set. There is something indescribable yet physically and emotionally palpable about this band. Wherever and whenever they play, the Eves leave crowds speechless. This particular night, their music seemed to arrive from Heaven, in an all-white chariot. There was a purity to the expression of these four incredible women that was parallel to a biblical experience.

Next, KEG appeared, to tumultuous applause, and provided the audience with a perfect transition between The Eves and the dastardly headliners. A motif of appropriated classical instruments was continued here, with the violin, cello, and flute, replaced by a trombone, foreshadowing the larger brass section to come. KEG’s explosive energy and divine anger formed a broken elevator down from the pearly gates, plummeting towards the fire and brimstone of Opus Kink.

By the time Opus Kink entered the fray the audience had filled out to capacity and the air inside the venue was bristling with anticipation. Appropriately wound up by KEG, and having descended said treacherous stair from paradise, the crowd were full of energy. The kinky conduits made no effort to conceal their sinful function in the evening’s proceedings.  Lead singer Angus Rogers, especially, apparently garbed in Lucifer’s finest party get-up, went to every effort to lead the lost sheep astray and corrupt the hearts of mortals. Pits were formed, bodies cavorted, morals assuaged, and everyone revelled in the fierce glow of Hell’s favourite band.

The night was brought to a close by the marriage of heaven and hell, with all three acts taking to the stage to perform ‘A Rainy Night in Soho’, a touching testament to the late Shane MacGowan. This rendition was sensitive, thoughtful, and, most importantly, the perfect conclusion to an exhilarating night of intensity and tension. The audience was left with a feeling of emotional release and good will that resounded through the dark, cold streets of Brighton and brought warmth to the hearts and souls of all who underwent the spiritual journey that Opus Kink curated.