Honesty – ‘Box’ album review: A seamless nightlife fever dream
THE SKINNY: The Leeds-based collective Honesty, consisting of George Mitchell, Matt Peel, Josh Lewis and Imi Holmes, make a point of doing things differently. In a departure from convention and an embrace of the digital age, the electronic quartet have decided to release their debut album as a continuous 34-minute mix. With such a format, perhaps I shouldn’t refer to Box as an album, but whatever the weather, Honesty has prospered in this latest project.
Box is predated by last year’s Where R U EP and a string of singles, the successes of which have elevated Honesty to nationwide awareness. Among the aware and beguiled are Dry Cleaning frontwoman Florence Shaw, Ryan Cooke and celebrated British rappers Rarelyalways and Kosi Tides, all of whom have contributed vocals to this swirling carousel of electronic dance music.
In places, we can freely attribute the EDM badge to this release, but it sells the package short. Just as one wouldn’t ordinarily dance to Aphex Twin’s ‘Alberto Balsam’, dancefloor moves could become comically contrived at certain junctures in this epic medley. The significant movements vary wildly, from haunting trip-hop through kinetic techno to UK hip-hop stylings, and in the transitions, Brian Eno will be pleased to hear some delectable ambient textures.
Honesty whetted our appetites at the beginning of March with the album’s previewing single, ‘Cease’. This enchanting trip-hop number flows in a manner representative of the record as a whole, with an ethereal sense of foreboding at the intro, some sultry beat drops to tempt the ravers and some elusive, angst-ridden lyrics: “I swallowed my anger / Never made me stronger / Time is like looking down a tube”.
‘Cease’ rests in Box between the fifth and eighth minutes, sandwiched between a slow-building yet rapturous four-minute introduction and the first of several transitional sections. These transitions slow the tempo and recalibrate the psyche for the next onslaught. They are kaleidoscopic, channel-surfing collages that enhance the album’s unsettling aura.
The middle chapters of the album, between minutes 12 and 22, are devoted mostly to the album’s hip-hop aspect. The rapping is often distant and nebulous, with echo effects applied to down-tempo verse spat across intrepid sonic scapes. In the first movement, the rapping meets a techno rhythm, and in the second, it seems more at home with drum machines and heightened intensity.
At around the 20th minute, Florence Shaw reminds me to dive back into the Dry Cleaning catalogue with a curious spoken-word passage adorning an ambient arrangement. “I don’t want anyone to map my micro-expressions,” she snarls at one point. This section is swiftly followed by an ominous, shuffling transition from which we emerge in the light of Box’s most upbeat moment.
For about a minute and a half after the 25th minute, an industrial techno excursion under-stays its welcome before the continuous sound abates into transitional ambient textures once again. As the record ebbs out, we enjoy one last flow, consisting of bright melodies, chiming percussion and what sounds like cars passing on the A58.
In Box, Honesty takes the listener on a patterned voyage through the choppy seas of electronica. Epic compositions can often become tiresome, but at 34 minutes, this mix feels, if anything, too short. The fourpiece combines the disparate realms of techno, hip-hop and ambient in a strangely coherent package that derails the consciousness into a delightful nightlife fever dream.
For fans of: Suspiria, UK hip-hop, and dancing alone in a darkened living room in corduroy trousers.
A concluding comment from Superhans: “I’ve entered the abyss and had a big ol’ rummage round, but I like it.”
Never Miss A Beat
The Far Out New Music Newsletter
All the latest New Music from the independent voice of culture.
Straight to your inbox.