El debut de las escocesas Honeyblood se grabó en el baño de casa, en una cassette. Un disco quizás demasiado valorado por lo que representa: las chicas han hecho un bonito esfuerza en materializar varios temas que no dejan de ser acercamientos al Pop de guitarras más propio de las Riot Grrrls que, como aventuran en otros foros, querer compararlas con grupos de la talla de Breeders, Throwing Muses o Camera Obscura (aquí personalmente pienso que se les ha ido la mano con las comparaciones). Lo malo es que quizás tampoco resistan una comparación con un referente mucho más claro como Best Coast. En definitiva, buen Pop, bonito ambiente en general y un buen disco de Indie de guitarras. No mucho más…
“One part of ‘90s indie lineage that usually goes unmentioned among the nostalgics is that the era’s albums tended to dissolve into filler in the back third, and Honeyblood is no exception. Just looking at the album’s tracklist, you can almost pinpoint the spot where they’ll break the monotony with an uptempo cut—in this case, the clipped exasperation and petulant shout-along of “All Dragged Up”—but for the most part, Honeyblood admirably sidesteps the potential pitfalls. Some bands record lo-fi albums as a statement of purpose; others because that’s all they could afford. Honeyblood were previously in the latter position, and as a result their debut doesn’t sound overproduced as much as it does properly heightened, like a well-developed photograph. The lovelorn “Fall Forever” melts on record like a sugarcube, “No Spare Key” and single “Bud” receive a clean frame around their lyrics, “Killer Bangs” is properly raucous, and the quieter “Super Rat” is gracefully produced, with guitars that initially sound like little pirouettes escalating the song to the level of ripping contempt: “SCUM! BAG! SLEAZE! SLIME! BALL! GREASE!”
As you might imagine from that exultation, Honeyblood is populated by the canonical post-riot-grrrl cast of characters: asshole dudes, and the women exasperated or over them in the most cathartic ways. But though Tweeddale’s still working through growing pains as a lyricist—for every great opening salvo, there’s a throat-clearing hedge—Honeyblood’s got a sense of voice some debut acts would be lucky to possess. “Choker”, in particular, feints past platitudes and scumball-sleaze dude clichés to become something more layered; it was inspired byAngela Carter’s story “The Bloody Chamber,” about a bride marrying a man implied to be theMarquis de Sade, whose wedding gift is a choker of “flashing crimson jewels round [her] throat, bright as arterial blood”; the song, accordingly, whiplashes from hooky to doomy to unnervingly placid. It’s not exactly a dark song, though, which is key, as the best moments on Honeyblood work in complex emotions.
“Biro” is the most wistful track on the album, a late-summer wash that sounds gorgeous on record. It possesses the record’s most lasting hook, as well as its most indelible line: “All the pain you’ve been through will be the making of you.” It works both as something to take to heart and a to-date career statement, as the making of Honeyblood turned out all right, after all.” (Pitchfork)