Fink @ Rough Trade East, London (Live Review) Featured
- Written by Captain Stavros
Fink
Rough Trade East
Words & Pics by Captain Stavros
Wishing For Bluer Skies: Fink Bring Warmth to a Rain-Soaked Rough Trade East
London had spent the day dressed in every shade of grey imaginable. Rain, drizzle, more rain. The sort of weather that makes you question leaving the house at all. Thankfully, Fink had arrived at Rough Trade East armed with a remedy.
The album launch show wasn't some grand spectacle. No dazzling production, no dramatic reveals. Just three musicians seated on stage with acoustic instruments and a room willing to meet them halfway.
The trio eased into opener ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ and immediately settled the room into their pace. A palpable warmth radiated from the stage. The acoustic bass — a rarity these days and a charming sight in itself — provided a deep, resonant thrum that seemed to travel through the floorboards and into the audience. Whether intentional or not, its low-end hum became one of the afternoon's defining features.
Outside, East London looked determined to drown beneath leaden clouds. Inside, ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ felt like a small act of resistance.
The relaxed atmosphere wasn't accidental. Introducing the material, Fin Greenall admitted, "It's only the second time we've played any of these songs." There was no attempt to hide the rough edges. With no guitar tech waiting in the wings, tuning breaks became part of the performance. "We're not going to regale you with anecdotes," he joked, "talk amongst yourselves." The audience laughed, though few seemed interested in talking. They were too busy listening.
A twelve-string guitar took centre stage during ‘Memorise Your Senses’, its finger-picked patterns dancing over that ever-present bass. The sound was rich without becoming cluttered, each instrument occupying its own pocket while still contributing to a remarkably full acoustic arrangement.
What stood out most wasn't technical prowess, though there was plenty of that on display, it was the ease between the players. They carried themselves less like seasoned veterans launching a new record and more like friends playing together in the corner of a pub on a dark winter evening. Drinks sat nearby. Heads nodded throughout the crowd. Even the musicians seemed unable to keep still, their feet bouncing in exaggerated rhythms beneath their stools like a Looney Tunes character thumping the ground after receiving an unexpectedly enthusiastic kiss.
By ‘I Buried All The Answers’, much of the audience had their eyes closed, allowing the music to wash over them. There was little need for visual spectacle when the songs themselves held the room so completely.
After four new tracks, Greenall announced, “This'll be the last one from the new tunes and then we'll do a couple from the old set”. ‘Two Magpies’ brought the debut run of new material to a close and showcased the understated confidence running throughout the afternoon. The newer songs sounded strong when stripped back to their essentials, their melodies and textures carrying the weight without any need for embellishment.
Meanwhile, Rough Trade's famously informal atmosphere continued to produce its own side stories. At one point, a small child appeared to have wandered backstage and into the photo pit, armed with a plush toy and a sippy cup, coughing cheerfully at my feet as though this was the most natural place in the world to spend a Saturday afternoon. Nobody seemed particularly concerned. Least of all the band.
When the familiar opening notes of ‘Not Everything Was Better in The Past’ arrived, the audience responded with appreciative whoops. The title itself felt oddly fitting for an album launch show — a reminder that nostalgia only gets you so far and that there is still value in looking forward.
The afternoon closed with ‘Looking Too Closely’, delivered in a mellower arrangement that traded some of the studio version’s tension for reflection. It proved the perfect ending for a performance built on intimacy rather than spectacle, sending the crowd back out into the East London drizzle with heads still nodding and melodies still lingering.
This wasn't the kind of performance that leaves a venue buzzing with adrenaline. It wasn't trying to be. Instead, Fink delivered something rarer: an hour of warmth on a cold, wet London day, played by musicians comfortable enough in both their songs and their company to let the music do the talking.
Sometimes that's more than enough.
