“Lynks, the horror-drag pop star, is reclaiming the term ‘abomination’ by saying ‘I put the ass in blasphemy.'”

“Lynks, the horror-drag pop star, is reclaiming the term ‘abomination’ by saying ‘I put the ass in blasphemy.'”

“E

Every day, I am asked, “Why do you wear that mask Lynks?” My response is that if I didn’t, everyone would want to have sex with me.” Lynks exudes confidence, and it is easy to understand why. They incorporate clever and bold interpretations of British gay culture into their music, which is akin to the sounds of MIA and Peaches, making them stand out as one of the most dynamic artists in UK pop.

An alternative explanation is provided by the anonymous, unassuming individual behind the Leigh Bowery-inspired masks. This person states, “Lynks is the opposite of me – someone who allows me to shed all my insecurities and become a self-absorbed pop star” (they also use both “he” and “she” pronouns). This came after a phase as a singer-songwriter when, “like the majority of male producers born in the late 90s, I was striving to be like James Blake.” After their laptop containing all their previous music was stolen, they embarked on a new persona of “a wild, horror-drag character” hidden behind homemade costumes, relocating from Bristol to London. Now, without the mask, “I am pushed aside at my own concerts.”

Lynks, in their first album Abomination, delves into the themes of celebrating and hiding one’s identity. Whether proclaiming “on the DLR on my way to engage in casual sex with a stranger” in the track (What Did You Expect From) Sex With a Stranger or expressing gratitude in Lucky for being born in a country where “my sexuality is not a death sentence”, Lynks explores these issues through a bold, dance-ready, industrial-flavored pop sound that is reminiscent of hard plastic. However, softer moments in the album hint at something more vulnerable beneath the surface bravado. Lynks’ writing throughout Abomination delves into topics of sex, queer pride, and queer shame, making them constant companions in their work.

Lynks clarifies that when a straight person is asked about the word “abomination”, they would describe it as something extremely negative. However, when a gay person is asked, they may connect it to the Bible’s portrayal of homosexuality in Leviticus 18. This section is referenced as a mid-album interlude titled “Abomination”. Even those who were not brought up in a religious environment may still internalize this mindset. Additionally, Lynks points out that this passage also condemns those who wear clothing made of mixed fabrics, meaning that those who wear a cotton-polyester blend shirt would also face the same punishment.

Lynks wished to redefine the term “abomination” as a symbol of pride – to uncover strength in vulnerability. Artists such as Troye Sivan and Sam Smith are effectively demonstrating the excellence, strength, and skill of the LGBTQ+ community, but there may be limited space to delve into the more difficult aspects of being queer. Lynks believes it is possible to address these complexities while still embracing one’s identity with pride.

The open and honest depiction of sex is not common in queer pop. The notion is raised that, following the era of Aids, gay pop stars like Bronski Beat and Frankie Goes to Hollywood were not allowed to express their homosexuality as freely. Pop music is perhaps still trying to recover from this limitation. Lynks agrees that it is difficult not to imagine a world where Aids never happened. In the gay community, there is often a fixation on youth and a fear of getting older. There is no established example of what it means to grow older as a gay man – either you died or lived in secrecy. Lynks captures this sentiment in their song “Use It or Lose It”: even at the age of 40, they still do not know what it means to be a gay man in this stage of life, unless they are like individuals such as Ian McKellen or Graham Norton.

Lynks.

Show the image in full screen mode.

The concept also applies to the directness of dating through apps. “We are a complex group of individuals who have likely experienced a significant amount of pain, rejection, and harassment. This makes us resilient and capable of being quite harsh,” Lynks explains. “Plus, consider how straight people behave during their adolescent years while discovering their sexuality – it can be chaotic! Some gay men may not come out until their 30s. This can create a dynamic where it feels like we’re at a teenage party in our 20s and 30s.”

Lynks combines Abomination’s witty one-liners, such as “I add blasphemy to the mix,” using a sarcastic tone that is reminiscent of Courtney Barnett’s style. They believe that humor is a way to present more serious topics, saying, “Only psychopaths or Americans can be completely genuine without ever cracking a joke.” When writing their earlier single “Str8 Acting,” which addresses internalized homophobia and compares straight clubs to pubs with fewer chairs, Lynks came to the realization that they didn’t have to choose between being a clown or being like Adele. They could be both a clown and a singer like Adele.

The vulnerable moments of Abomination, from the longing in Tennis Song for a heterosexual tennis coach to the desperate pleas of New Boyfriend to a harmful past love interest, reveal the true identity of Lynks, the creator. This is most apparent in the album’s final track, Flash in the Pan, where Lynks expresses fears of never achieving success. The journey could have come to an end when their laptop, containing the finished mixes of Abomination, was stolen, leading to a lengthy rebuilding process. “Some things don’t fit perfectly together,” they confess, courageously pairing cappuccino and trampoline at one point in the album. “But it’s authentic. I’ve written about things that have not been addressed before.”

Source: theguardian.com