Optik Sink last caught our ear with Glass Blocks in 2023, a volatile concoction of chilly sonics and driving beats, helmed by NOTS’ Nathalie Hoffman, Magic Kids Ben Bauermeister and the Sheiks’ Ken Cooper. The band was Memphis punk all the way through, but without the visceral, sweat-stained, beer-smelling vibe of the scene that grew up around the Oblivians and Jay Reatard. We observed the the album found “an eerie seam between Suicide’s synthy menace, Devo’s robotics and early female-dominated post-punk, the Raincoats and LiliPUT especially.”
Now, two years later, the band retains its haughty froideur, while upping the propulsion. Here on record number three, Optic Sink churns out austere, disciplined post-punk grooves that burble with low-toned synths, slink with drum machine cadences and erupt with fiery bursts of guitar. Manic and dada at the same time, these cuts drive hard through surreal spaces; nothing is normal, but no one is surprised about it either. When Hoffman chants, “An obsession with motion /driving forward with no hands /laughing backwards at full speed,” in the opening cut, “Laughing Backwards” it distills the vibe into one strange, frantic image: constant movement, logical breakdown, cybernetic cool.
It's striking how hard the beats go, given that the drums are all programmed. There’s a rush of energy on this album that’s more focused than before. On standout, “Golden Hour,” the click and pop of drum machine is shrouded by massive dark clouds of Cure-like synths. Blatting dark-new-wave dance riffs, stir the cut to motion, like a robot dreaming about Bootsie Collins.
The guitar work is minimalist and spare, but altogether essential here, as it crashes and slashes through stylishly restrained soundscapes. It’s agitated and dissonant, the warmest, roughest texture on the record, and the contrast shines a spotlight on Hoffman’s aloof, poised vocals. “Do what you want” she cries, repeatedly in “The Luxury of Honesty” and the phrase has never sound more desolate, less hedonistic or more danceable.
