Laugh-out-loud, faux shocking, and innuendo-laden club tunes shot through with the kind of ‘you can’t say that’ lyrics that are refreshingly honest and comedic at the same time. Every single song follows that model.
The beats and synth waves are what get the body twitching, the muscles bulging, but tangled in the minutiae of the lyrics Lynks is bearing their soul. The self-deprecating jabs keep sparring with their pitch-black wit and deftly, nimbly manage to outrun the notion of shame, guilt or restraint in any way. There are no doubt many people who would have them wallow in the judgement of queer sexual ‘slut’ life - especially in the over-the-top and ironic way Lynks describes it.
“Use It or Lose It” is a prime example of the album's tone from the very first blast of Lynks' vocals describing mid-20s life as a “twelve-month long hot girl summer”. They’re not getting any younger so it's a free-for-all all and “no man's safe except my dad or my brother”. It’s literally outrageous and for an artist that began as a drag clowning joke enterprise the underlying feeling remains whilst the ambition has expanded.
“New Boyfriend”, “Tennis Song”, “CPR” and “(What Did You Expect) Sex With A Stranger” all prick at similar topics with various deft lyrical moments teasing and taunting in equal measure. The scenario may vary but the central premise and characters are present, the stories play out like a set of updated Carry On films, but with music that goes as hard as any club cut. In that respect it’s classically British in its humour and goading of the sour-faced prudes who’ll never get it.
In the past, Lynks has broached more serious and darker subjects, toxic masculinity “Silly Boy” and the infamous “Str8 Acting” about the glorification of heterosexuality, but on Abomination there’s a more cohesive sense of vulnerability even contemplation that the attention-seeking initial EP songs clamoured for so brazenly.
Once past the halfway point on Abomination, however, the songs get more musically diverse, less concerned with the shock and engage with things on an emotional level. The minimal electroclash vibe of “Room 116” outlines picking up someone in a bar with a detached restraint. Maybe the monotony of the fun is wearing thin? “Leviticus 18” and title track “Abomination” both describe the hypocritical biblical condemnation and homophobia that plagues the queer community. “Lucky” is a sweet-sounding beach calypso whereas the prowling “Small Talk” mixes the anonymous pleasure of the flesh with actually wanting to get to know someone. We’re veered away from the dance hits at this point until “Lynks Thinks” ramps up the bpm and hits out the detractors, homophobes or generally is a fuck you to anything ‘acceptable’. Rounding out with a dizzying “Flash in the Pan” Lynks wryly heads off any critics writing them off as a novelty. Knowing how fickle the business can be they boldly claim their “fifteen minutes” determined to leave an impression.
Quite a lot of Abomination is concerned with head-spinning notions of self and identity, being who you want to be or what’s expected. Playing a part or rebelling against type, willingly or otherwise. Songs are used as coping mechanisms, turning their clever lyrical subversion, musical maturity and contagious energy to address modern mores as a result Lynks has become a figurehead for existing and soon-to-be-converted acolytes to gravitate towards.
