Honey Moon

Words by Sophie Muir Photographs by Bella Unwin

Jack offers me a coffee. Joey offers me a Guinness. Zach says hello. This is Honey Moon.

The studio is snuggly, characterised by warm lights, and yellow walls with blue pseudo-spiritual paintings hung sporadically. A room only intended to fit the band and their instruments, I insert myself with a notepad, pen, and recorder.

As any amateur interviewer does, I asked them how they first met. Jack tells me that Zach and him met at a house party whilst they were attending University - the classic origin story of many bands in the London circuit. Supposedly Zach popped into Jack’s life like a “sweet popping mole” or anything of that sort... We all laughed.

‘What pops up?!’ Jack tries to explain that he is thinking of whack-a- mole but none of us are convinced. Zach puts us back on track: “You asked me to play bass in your band, I thought I’d never see you again and unfortunately I did.” Joe’s arrival into the band is slightly more inspiring. The band were playing at The Monarch in Camden when Joey strolled by. “I just sort of heard this sweet music coming out so I went in and watched it and then 6 months later I was in a band.” Jack remarks that this is when things got serious for the band, “when the stars aligned.” Joey tells me he doesn’t understand how to have fun and we all laugh.

Having found that out, I am now determined not to be deemed boring by my counterparts, so I ask an outlandish question: ‘If you were to describe your music as a fruit or vegetable or something alike, what would it be?’ Silence. Had I taken a step in the wrong direction? Jack throws out “exotic”, Joey adds “mango” and then feels it necessary to add “like an exotic, mango... cocktail that’s kinda like sweet when you first taste it but gets more sinister as you go on...”. They settled on the sentiment being something that has the potential to become sickly in excess. Joey offered “a margarita”. Honey Moon’s music is akin to a margarita.

‘You guys describe your sound as ‘jangly croon pop for the soul’, is it safe to say your music is very lyric or vocal orientated?’ Jack tells me the music is melody orientated and the lyrics end up being shoehorned in later. There are only a couple of tracks on the new self- titled album in which the lyrics came first. Jack is a self-proclaimed stickler for melodies. This leads us onto the writing process: “With this album there were a couple of songs that were complete songs and came really quickly, just like in a day or an afternoon or whatever but mostly it was little ideas that I’d record on my phone during lockdown and then send to the others... We’d try to put all the pieces of the jigsaw together I guess, and there was a lot of time sticking them together.” Jack chuckles and asks the others if they agree. They nod and confirm in a low chatter.

To continue the line of enquiry about their lyrics I ask of narratological inspiration: ‘As love songs, are these lyrics based in experience or archetypes and ideals of love?’ Jack says it’s more the latter. He adds that often the songs sound lovey-dovey but beneath them it’s not so happy and rosy. The perceived sickly sweetness of their music with comparison to margaritas is now made apparent. I mention this to them and they praise the previous question with Joey admitting he is still thinking about it.

I confess that I had been doing some digging prior to the interview and confront them with their past claim that a dream collaboration would be with the likes of Buddy Holly. I ask if they feel as though their music leans on artists of the past.

The short response is “yeah”. I kindly ask them to elaborate ‘please’. The response turns slightly philosophical concurring with the paintings on the wall: “I guess everyone does in a way.” Jack ponders. ”Mhm” Zach concurs. Joey tells me that they listen to a lot of stuff, but a band that they all listen to is The Beach Boys, and more recently, Alabama Shakes. “Every time we go to the studio, we play the producer the same Alabama Shakes song just to wind him up. It [their music] never ends up sounding anything like it.” They all giggle. Jack adds that the writing started out as a little bit more obsessed around that era, the ‘50s/’60s doo-woppy thing, but now the influences are more widespread. “On the new album there is a little bit of soul, Motown, ballads, some crooning. The single VIP is classic indie. So, it’s a bit more a mixed bag now.” Joey laughs that it took them so long to write the album that they had to draw from a wide range of influences otherwise they would have gotten bored.

We go on to talk about the stress of creating something and the experience of performing that to an audience. Jack notes that he is a perfectionist in the studio and he always wants it to get it right. Joey adds that he used to stress a lot about getting it perfect when playing the songs live but he soon realised after playing loads of gigs that making mistakes always happens and it’s ok. Jack couldn’t think of a better word – his words not mine – as he described the performance stage as transient. “There’s a moment when you’re performing a song and it’s done in those three or four minutes and it’s completely shaped by the environment and the people that were there and it just exists then. Whereas when you’re creating something that you wanna, I don’t know, stick the record on when you’re a grandad and be like ‘oh I made this when I was young’, you’re gonna be pissed off if you didn’t get it right, whereas in the moment it’s just like.. *claps*..’ Joey agrees and suggests that you just try not to pull a funny face. We all laugh. Jack speaks of how his dad told him after a gig in Manchester that he ‘really comes across as a face puller.’

The rest of the conversation was jovial and illuminating as one of the members requested to speak off the record of some second-hand anecdote involving animal testicles. I’ll say no more. Alas, to my, and I’m sure your disappointment, my technologies have failed me and the audio recording of the rest of the evening has been lost to the oblivion of the ‘cloud’. I do remember asking where their own Honey Moon would be if they had all just married one another – a witty question I was proud of. However, my memory serves to fail it’s purpose and the answers go unrecognised in my mind.

Fear not, I can leave you all with a peep into their new album through way of my review of their Lexington gig. I was blessed to be able to listen to the new album before I met the band and I can tell you now, I was not in the least dissatisfied. The album is eclectic with the signature sound you’d expect from Honey Moon - the second track is creamy and velvety like a perfectly oat foamed flat white, except maybe sweeter. The mango margarita might come to mind. I can’t help but boogie as I sit listening to the album and writing this review in the middle of Copeland Park. I have no shame, Honey Moon’s rhythm never misses the opportune groove. Listening to track 3, I really can’t help but wish Jack was singing to me. I would happily call him sweetheart with a voice like that. The surf-rock guitar accompaniment is admittedly tickling a weak spot of mine. As I flick through the tracks, I keep catching myself thinking ‘oh wait no, this is my favourite!’ It’s safe to stay that the whole album is full of beautiful croon pop and jangly indie tunes that will not fail to tickle your ears.

Regarding the live performance, I shall set the scene –

Saturday, February 26th – Infamous venue, The Lexington in Islington hosts a trio of marvellous musicians – The Famous Daxx, Ellie Bleach and Honey Moon.

The Famous Daxx grace us with charm, whilst Ellie Bleach invigorates with witty lyrics. Empty glasses line the perimeter of the stage. Honey Moon steal the show. Tonight they’re a sextet. Jack tunes his guitar. Zach sips his water. May we be graced with the sticky sweet melodies of Honey Moon.

The band open with Stop and Listen, a single from their unreleased debut album which did not fail to excite the already enamoured crowd. Immediately I can confirm the Jack is indeed a face puller. Whoops and cheers battle against the music. I can’t help but notice the trumpeter’s idleness, I wonder if he is as disinterested as he looks. The few moments he does sound his horn fill the room with gorgeous symphony. Something sounds off to me, but I suppose that’s what you get when you’ve become attuned to the poor quality of Spotify streaming. God damn Spotify. Jack reaches every high note you could ever want him too, a skill not exemplified in the streamed version of the song. I admire the similarity of all their trousers and they play the next song. Zach hovers on his tiptoes as if in mountain pose, summing up his persona better than I ever could. I remind myself I am not here to psychoanalyse. Let the band play.

As they stand in a triangle, it’s the ultimate bromance. They riff on the well-known stinger (the very brief instant of music that accompanies a scene transition) of sitcom Friends. The specific motif can be heard from S1E08 onwards. I chuckled despite its seemingly odd placement and wonder if the rest of the audience appreciated the gesture. All I hear is murmuring. The audience only want Honey Moon’s sickly sweet music.

The fourth song they perform is the fourth from their upcoming album, one of my personal favourites. It’s slow and velvety. The crowd can’t get enough as Jack flexes the full range of his vocal abilities. We can understand why they called themselves Honey Moon. The crowd is electric, something I’ve only previously felt at the more riotous gigs on the London circuit. The audience is in union with Honey Moon. The atmosphere is a mutual creation, sustained by one another. Who knew indie pop could be quite so sublime.

The trumpeter is in the background of all this beauty, sitting seemingly disappointedly on his chair at the back of the stage. He tries to look like he is enjoying himself, but I don’t believe it. He shakes his trumpet about as if this will entertain him in some way. I don’t believe it does. For some reason I find this off putting but I’m sure the rest of the audience are too excited or drunk to care. Jack and Zach perform a momentary duet. Again, we feel the love. An audience member next to me yells ‘kiss’ and we all feel the tension rise with the possibility of homophobic slurs. Finally, the trumpeter reveals a persona of Joy as Jack kneels towards him and serenades the man. The chemistry between the band is simply lovely, but is that all there is?

The spirit of the audience was certainly integral to the atmosphere that night. Of all the released songs that the band performed the audience audibly sang along. It was clear the audience loved these musicians and these musicians love what they do. The whole set sounded great thanks to the sweet melodies of Honey Moon and the epic acoustics of the Lexington. It must be noted that Jack’s voice is very impressive. Watching him move away from the mic as we could still hear his high notes reminded me of that clip of Mariah Carey shrieking into a microphone about 2 feet away from her face.

Skipping the whole ‘encore’ charade they offer us a last song. A cover of Young Hearts Run Free by Candi Staton begins. Again, I’m surrounded by a sea of cheers and whoops. A song I would usually roll my eyes at became a song I would immediately turn up when performed by Honey Moon. The spirits were higher than ever; a room filled with lovers and dancers. Maybe it was the ‘jangly croon pop’ of the night, or maybe it was the climax of youth unbound by lockdowns, but I’ve not quite felt a crowd so enthusiastic in a long time. Honey Moon are indeed on the up and coming, with their sweet melodies, charm, and stylistic entourage.

And then I walked through Shoreditch, freezing cold, wishing I was in the embrace of Honey Moon once again.