Honeyfeet

Honeyfeet sounds like a riotous street party that accidentally broke into a high-end jazz club. It is music built on the friction between Ríoghnach Connolly’s formidable, earthy vocals and a rhythm section that refuses to sit still. The sound is thick with brass, swinging between the loose-limbed joy of New Orleans jazz and the sharp, cynical edge of British post-punk storytelling.

What truly distinguishes them is their 'barrelhouse pop' sensibility. They take the technical proficiency of jazz and funk but strip away the pretension, replacing it with a grit that feels distinctly Northern English. It is theatrical without being camp, and soulful without being derivative, often incorporating unexpected elements like 'cowpunk' energy or 'ethio-trad' rhythms that keep the listener off-balance.

Start with the album 'Orange Whip' to hear them at their most cohesive. It captures the band's ability to pivot from heavy, danceable funk to intimate, folk-inflected moments without losing their signature rowdy charm. It is the perfect introduction to their world of storytelling and groove.