Born out of lead songwriter Sokolow’s un-desire to be a solo-act, Honeyglaze met officially at their first ever rehearsal- just three days ahead of what was to become a near-residency, at their favoured ‘The Windmill’, Brixton. Forming a mere five-months ahead of a subsequent five-months of mandatory solitude, a parallel that’s both aligned and universally un-timely, Honeyglaze, at first appearance, are a group who play with chance, time, and synergetic fate, in a manner few others are able to do.

New album Real Deal arrives like a sigh at the end of a big feeling. It’s a translation of white knuckles, grinding teeth and fingernails bitten raw: the inner turbulence that wrestles with a calm exterior. You might sit in the corner with your drink, try to lose yourself for hours in front of a screen – but for their second album, Honeyglaze confront it all, digging their fingernails under the scabs. Confrontation and confidence; intensity and catharsis – these are the hard-earned rewards of a band who are ready to reintroduce themselves.
 
“It was quite reactionary,” reflects vocalist and guitarist Anouska Sokolow. “Musically, we were reacting to the first album thinking, ‘How can we do better?’” Emerging from South London with bassist Tim Curtis and drummer Yuri Shibuichi who completed the picture by illustrating the tensions of her inner world, Honeyglaze grew in a strange time, warped by the pandemic. Brought to light by Dan Carey’s scene-defining label Speedy Wunderground, their 2022 self-titled debut album captured Sokolow’s coming-of-age. Fraught with arresting sincerity and deadpan wit, she announced herself as a singular songwriter who dared to share the parts of ourselves we’d rather hide: creative inadequacy, the fortress built around a closely-guarded heart, and the bad haircuts and bleach-jobs born from unsettled identity.