The chanting (“Bilk! Bilk! Bilk!”) begins even before the band take the stage. The chaos begins soon after they do. Within the opening minute of Fashion, as any partially filled pint cups are still being hurled towards Omeara’s stage, the audience starts bouncing. Not long after, the first body’s up in the air. As if on cue, the moshing kicks off. And so it goes, pausing only when singer-guitarist Sol Abrahams spots a punch being thrown and has the punter ejected. (Tonight’s manifesto is clear: have fun, go wild, and don’t be a dick.) Not even the relatively restrained Part And Parcel — featuring just voice and guitar — is complete without a crowd surfer.
Later, while playing a solo no less, Abrahams himself gets in on the action. As he falls into (and is carried by) the sea of raised arms, it becomes clear: if he wasn’t actually in the band, he’d be right there in the audience, singing along to every word like everybody else.
Bilk’s songs, in the great three chords and the truth tradition, are all about what it’s like being a young adult in the UK right now. (In short: not great.) As a young adult himself — like his band mates Luke Hare and Harry Gray, Abrahams is in his early 20s — his matter-of-fact lyrics are stuffed with references to being bored, skint, unemployed, and desperate. There are too many nights out, trips to the drive-thru as something to do, minimum-wage dead-end call centre jobs, social (media) pressures, no opportunities, politicians without conscience, “and the same old shit again”.
Yet, no matter how bleak things get, nothing’s ever whiney. Everything’s presented without a hint of self-pity. And it’s paired with music that’s (mostly) loud and fast, but uplifting rather than aggressive. Think catchy, immediate, no-nonsense songs (hints of Sex Pistols, Green Day, Rage Against The Machine, and Nirvana) vigorously performed on guitar, bass, and drums.
“Got nothing to do, living in CM2/ And when the boredom comes, it sticks like glue,” Abrahams almost shouts over a punchy grunge riff and jangly bassline on CM2. “I feel like my brain moves slow/ Phone battery and energy is low/ Just another night out, why are we like this?/ I wanna find out,” he sings between the spoken verses of Cali-punk anthem Hummus And Pita.
“There must be more to life than Tinder swipes/ And posting shit on Instagram for meaningless likes/ Where I’m from there’s teen mums sipping booze/ While the baby takes twos from her B&H Blues/ The boys are in gangs/ The girls push prams/ To spend all their money on some shitty fake tan,” he half-spits in his Chelmsford accent over the mohawk-and-safety-pins sound of Brand New Day, as the audience hop and shout along. But there’s optimism too. Be Someone, featuring a riff AC/DC should consider nicking, boasts a refrain of “I’m gonna be someone/ Gonna make it/ Got my chance right now/ gonna take it” that soundtracks a giant inflatable football bouncing off the raised fists in the room.
Those fists become raised middle fingers as Abrahams takes on the Tories with a strident call to arms Stand Up. “They’re nothing but fools” he screams as Hare and Gray lay down a menacing groove. And, despite being the night’s final song, it’s punctuated by a punter who tirelessly clambers onto the stage before leaping off again. There’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere, but it’s also just the behaviour of someone having the night of his life. And he’s not alone.
“LONDON U WERE FUCKIN CHAOS,” Abrahams posts on Instagram the following day, alongside multiple videos that show, but don’t fully capture, said chaos. You really had to be there, bruised, drenched in sweat and beer, to get the full Bilk experience.
Bilk
Omeara, London
18th February 2023
Photo: Simon Reed
- This article originally appeared on Louder Than War.
Nils van der Linden 