In my more idle moments – whilst stuffing envelopes as work or dragging my limbs out of bed before the sun has risen to hammer out words on an recalcitrant computer – I wonder why I never joined a band.
I mean, hey – I can play the guitar. Who can’t? The band could have been brilliant! The world tours! The groupies! The arguments over seating arrangements in the van! Halcyon days, my friend, halcyon days.
In reality, I would have hated being in a band – if only because the idea of playing the same 13 songs over and over again strikes me as being trapped in a uniquely demented corner of hell.
Honeydrum seem to have broached this issue by ensuring that all their songs are about two minutes in length. The threat of self-induced boredom successfully nullified by brevity, they have them concentrated on the important stuff, like making a bunch of sweet and dizzy lo-fi pop songs.
Those Babes twinkles as delicately as it growls with latent menace, before soaring with a restrained glory in the last quarter of the song – which in the context of a two-minute song equates to approximately 15 seconds of dazzling gorgeousness.
This seems like a fair ratio, and one that enables Honeydrum to maintain their focus, without tipping them into a spiral of drugs, doubt and feuding. It’ll retain choke-hold on your attention too, almost guaranteeing a replay the instant it finishes. Smart, sweet and insistent.