“Manchester, we have no words.”   This tweet by the mesmeric Black Honey, following a sell-out show at the Deaf Institute in Manchester last night, says it all. Having seen them five times in the last five months, I am inclined to agree. I am fast losing the ability to put into words what a live Black Honey show is like. Ok let me try: type the word “amazing” into an online thesaurus and you get an impressive list, yet it doesn’t come close to doing justice to their gigs. “Astonishing, awesome, fascinating, incredible, marvellous, prodigious, shocking, stunning, surprising, unbelievable, wonderful.” All true, but then some. Just ask the hundreds of sweaty honeyz crammed into the cutely atmospheric upper room venue.  Even before the band came on stage I stood at the front looking at their name in lights and a torrent of adjectives flooded into my brain: retro, sinister, sultry, mysterious, sexy, arty, anticipating. The band are so many things that you soon run out of superlatives and are imperceptibly drawn into an intangible force field, an aura, an essence that you know has sucked you in and trapped you, prey to a deliciously melodic black honey spider.

What I hadn’t bargained for was just how good a live act the support band, Dream Wife, would be. There are not many bands who can entice an audience on first hearing, but they had the place spellbound. Three gals and a guy, the exact opposite of Black Honey, their pure boundless energy was unleashed upon the excitable crowd. Running at breakneck speed through a highly contagious set containing the brutally exciting F.U.U and the moshalong Hey Heartbreaker they drew the crowd into their bouncing punkfest artpop disco with relish.  Lead singer, Rakel, preened and cajoled a hyperactive audience that went on a very willing journey to melodic punk land. Guitarist, Alice, and bass player, Bella, riffed and bopped and pogoed and “Hey hey hey-ed” in unison. They are like art in motion on a stage, a multiple genre pastiche that is tantalising, gripping, and not too unlike the Brighton peers they are supporting. Cinematic, discomatic, automatic…hooked. There is absolutely no way I will not be seeing this band again. (Liverpool, 1st November, Arts Club!)

As an aside there was a much applauded cameo on stage from photographer, blonde-wigged Charlotte Patmore, who owned the place, dressed as Izzy.  When Black Honey played she kept moving Chris Ostler’s mic stand to get better pictures.  There is certainly no longer any need to canvas: everybody votes for Patmore, Member of Parliament for Zoomlensville. She takes beautiful, unique pictures and videos and was clearly formed through the mystical union in a dark room of a creative sperm that zoomed in on a charismatic egg. One girl in the audience spotted her and screamed. “Oh my god I love you. You’re my hero,” whilst people in the audience cheered for her as she stood stage left, taking photos of Dream Wife.

Back to Black Honey. Starting with Madonna and ending with Spinning Wheel and Corinne, they rocked their way through their delectable “back catalogue” throwing in new song, Ghost, the B-side of new single, Hello Today. Each lyrical creation they bring out is refreshing, yet unmistakably transmits their distinctive aura, so that you instantly receive these new offerings like the old friend you play on repeat for days on end. There will come a day when they will have too many masterpieces to play them all in one show. What will we do without the epic blues of Mothership, the sultry Sleep Forever and the victorious All My Pride? Already I was finding myself searching for the elusive songs that never came, and missing the opportunity to become lost and float away in the sway of the magnificent Headspin.

The Manchester crowd went along with every smudged lipstick pout, every menacing look, every wave of an actress’ hand, falling to the ground on command like a sadhu’s devotees. Like Bruce Springsteen’s mesmerises with tales of going to the river with his dad, so we had Izzy’s intoxicating accounts of “feeling shit”. There wasn’t a soul there that didn’t believe, and identify with, every word she said. She is a stage persona, a talented actress, a star of stage and potentially screen, but equally a normal human being who knows normal human desires, emotions and heartache.  There wasn’t a soul there that didn’t want to follow the exhortation to “look after each other down there” as a mosh whirlpool opened up in front of the stage.  The rest of the band were on top form, going for it vigorously and singing the backing vocals with more energy than I’ve seen before. There was good humour too: when Tom said something from the drums to Chris, the guitarist shouted at him to fuck off and they both laughed.  The only one who was surprisingly quiet on the night was Jerry Flamingo, who seemed very subdued, probably still miffed at being kidnapped from his native Africa and plotting his silent escape into the night sky.

Finally, I have in my possession the set list from the night. It is folded, crumpled and stained, yet I will treasure it as if it was pristine new. Why? Because it tells a story. It tells the story of a gig I went to. It reminds me of how I sneaked my head over the foldback speaker to see which songs would be played. It calls to mind the moment Izzy came on stage holding a red drink in a glass and bent down just in front of me to place it next to the list of songs. It reminds me of the floor shaking beneath me as the music pounded and the crowd jumped. It reminds me of a scene from a ship disaster movie, watching the glass shake along with the stage, watching the liquid slide from side to side, and knowing the inevitable fate of that drink that would not be drunk. That crumpled set list, stained with, and smelling of, a non-alcoholic (!!) fruit drink, will always remind me of one hell of a gig in an Institute that left me half deaf but waiting for my next fix of honey, and a dream wife.

Written by Si ©Cre8ivation

For other reviews and articles about Black Honey:

“Black Honey Live: I’m Jerry. I’m An Indie Celebrity. Get Me Out Of Here!   http://www.cre8ivation.com/?p=5607

Festevol 2016: The Arrival of Hurricane Rockchicks     http://www.cre8ivation.com/?p=5593

Black Honey: Sweet Dreams or a Beautiful Nightmare?    http://www.cre8ivation.com/?p=5517