Black Honey: Within Contemporary Society

      Black Honey has established itself as a key player in the UK's indie music scene, known for its cinematic storytelling and captivating performances. However, on their fourth album, 'Soak', frontwoman Izzy B Phillips steps into her most authentic role: herself.

      When DIY arrives slightly late for an interview at a London hotel, we find Izzy B Phillips, the frontwoman of Brighton's indie staples Black Honey, already busy enjoying a latte and experimenting with an Omnichord, which she claims has been the main tool for her recent songwriting. “Since that video of Damon Albarn playing ‘Clint Eastwood’ on one went viral, they’ve become quite pricey,” she says with some frustration. “And the batteries are driving me crazy—I have to replace them every four days.” Yet, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. While managing campaign concepts and press obligations for their new album, ‘Soak’, she is also balancing shifts as a tattoo artist and mapping out another intriguing project. This certainly isn’t surprising: anyone who conducts an interview as expansive and rich as this is clearly not limited to a single focus. “I can say with certainty that this is our best work,” she states, referencing her bandmates Chris Ostler (guitar), Tommy Taylor (bass), and Alex Woodward (drums). “I know everyone claims that about their current projects, but the relief of fulfilling an unexplored part of myself is monumental.” 'Soak' arrives after significant life changes for Izzy, including her recent autism diagnosis and a commitment to sobriety. Collaborating with artists like Savages’ Fay Milton has also opened new avenues for her creativity.

      Lyrically honest and marked by newfound clarity and self-acceptance, 'Soak' represents a turning point for Izzy. It’s not heavily conceptual but is defined by what it avoids as much as by what it includes. “I've been on a journey where I shaped myself for others,” she reflects, pointing out the cowboy personas in the band’s earlier work and her "Debbie Harry sketch" look. "When I started out, there were benchmarks to determine if you were a 'true' artist: ‘How well do you know Neu! and the krautrock scene?’” she recalls with disdain. “I was aware of all of that, but I also projected this idea of femininity—lipstick, hair, lashes—for a male audience. That was the identity the world expected from me; I relied on it for survival, especially when people questioned how I could have platonic relationships with my bandmates.” She adds, “I created a fantasy band and a fantasy identity, and I've spent time deconstructing that to find out what's real. [Black Honey] constantly navigates the balance between authenticity and façade.”

      Eschewing the stylized aesthetics of previous albums that drew inspiration from filmmakers like Tarantino and Wes Anderson, the band's approach in 'Soak' is noticeably more straightforward. While cinematic references remain—think Kubrick, Tim Burton, and Danny Elfman—the album delves into a familiar terrain of dystopian news cycles and unsettling addictions rather than escapist tales of lovers and outlaws.

      Izzy notes that the track ‘Carroll Avenue’ represents a pivotal broader shift. "Much of Black Honey has been me saying, ‘I’m in a Western, but I’m really Izzy B. Phillips from Crawley,’” she describes. This imagined version of Americana stemmed from seeing life through films—focusing on the Hollywood dazzle and allure. However, ‘Carroll Avenue’, inspired by the LA street where she wrote it, challenges that entire fantasy, making her confront the realities of the film world and "burn it all down." She recalls its lyrics: “Old Hollywood signs kept romance alive / From Calloway Drive the star killed the stripe / And the cry turns to silence, bled out in the basement / You can’t blame me now, this is our entertainment.” It speaks to a growing sense of disillusionment; with the crushing reality of today’s world streaming live, it's difficult to retain a sense of whimsy. “Everything is burning up,” Izzy states plainly, “and it’s overwhelming.” Yet, the allure of the content is hard to resist; 'Soak' and its cover along with ‘Psycho’ and its visual counterpart highlight a compulsive consumption—a voyeurism that breeds confusion rather than clarity. “It’s a collective illness we’re experiencing,” she asserts. “My brain is in overdrive processing this onslaught of information, yet I feel compelled to scroll through holiday photos for an escape.” The result? A reality more fantastical than any film—a world where senseless violence leaves us desensitized, fatigue paralyzes us, and self-absorption rises. “We exist in a film that no one else will witness,” she laughs, reflecting on an irony present in her earlier