Black Honey

Uncover Music presents

Black Honey

Two years can change everything. Just ask Izzy B. Phillips, the fiercely passionate and endlessly forthright frontwoman of Brighton-formed quartet Black Honey.

For more than a decade, she’s conjured vivid cinematic universes alongside guitarist Chris Ostler, bassist Tommy Taylor, and drummer Alex Woodward — scoring top 10 albums and playing shows with Liam Gallagher, IDLES, and The Libertines. Yet the songwriter before us today is a very different proposition to the one behind 2023’s A Fistful of Peaches, let alone 2021’s Written and Directed or the band’s self-titled debut of 2018.

Now two years sober and thriving in a parallel career as a tattoo artist, Phillips remains a force of nature — but one with healthier outlets for her boundless energy. It hasn’t been easy, but she’s reaping the benefits: deeper self-acceptance and greater creative clarity, kickstarting the most compelling chapter of Black Honey so far.

Where A Fistful of Peaches tentatively traded pulp fiction for personal reflection, Black Honey’s forthcoming fourth album Soak sees Phillips fully commit to unguarded expression — finding catharsis in candour and romance in imperfection. Woozily dramatic and packed with killer melodies, Soak is unapologetically led from the gut, and stronger for its emotional vulnerabilities.

The album’s roots were laid almost by accident. Taking time out from touring, Phillips spent a month in Colombia in winter 2024, writing prolifically. A spell in L.A. followed, before the band whittled down 12 final tracks from a pool of 41. Recording took place at ICP Studios in Brussels with long-time collaborator Dimitri Tikovoï (Charli XCX, The Horrors), with vocals finished in West London and final mixes by Dan Grech-Marguerat (Lana Del Rey, Wolf Alice) and Luke Burgoyne (MUNA, Tom Grennan).

Phillips made a conscious decision to prioritise emotional resonance over technical perfection. “My eyeliner is always wonky, my tattoo style rejects the perfect tight line and my guitar playing can be sloppy — and that’s cool,” she says. “The more I learned about my personal creative expression, the more I realised imperfections are what make art feel human. With this album, I think I’ve murdered the concept of artistic superiority and really freed myself in the process.”

This authenticity extended to her lyrical process, which favours nuance over polemic. The gothic brilliance of Insulin explores sexual assault through stream-of-consciousness writing. The phrase “You’re fucking with my insulin” began as a placeholder, later revealing itself as a powerful metaphor for emotional dysregulation.

The title track Soak is similarly charged, with minor key verses and a barbed chorus confronting Phillips’ inner saboteur. “It can feel like you're drowning in the sickness of the modern world,” she explains. “There is addiction in there, for sure, as well as different psychological crutches.”

Drag, brighter in tone but warped with psychedelic textures, reflects her early experiences of sobriety. Quitting alcohol was a turning point: “There are only so many times you can repeat the same loops and feel sorry for yourself,” she shrugs.

Equally significant was her autism diagnosis in 2024, which helped her understand past meltdowns previously attributed to ADHD. With diagnoses rising in the UK, Phillips hopes sharing her story will help others feel seen. On Slow Dance, she sighs dreamily, “You're so neurotypical, but I'm creative / You say I’m unpredictable but I can’t fake it.”

Medication is even more candid, with wild dynamic shifts and a celestial chorus lamenting, “Don’t wanna take my medication.” For Phillips, it’s “a permission slip to exist in your truth; a reminder not to mute your shine for anyone.”

Dead channels defiance with its scuzzy, do-your-worst chorus: “You can’t kill me now ‘cause I’m already dead.” Meanwhile, lead single Psycho offers playful nihilism with retro synths and lines like, “Have you ever kissed a psycho? Could be kinda fun though.” Its Harv Frost-directed video nods to A Clockwork Orange, with Phillips strapped to a chair and force-fed fabricated experiences.

Having previously channelled Quentin Tarantino and Wes Anderson, Phillips cites Stanley Kubrick as a key influence on Soak’s visual world — particularly the retro-futurism of A Clockwork Orange, The Shining, and 2001: A Space Odyssey. Yet the haunting Carroll Avenue feels more Tim Burton than Kubrick, named after the iconic L.A. street and built from eerie xylophone, sawn-off guitars, and Danny Elfman-esque strings.

The album’s range is staggering, from swaggering festival anthems like Shallow to hair-metal theatrics on Vampire in the Kitchen. Four albums in, Black Honey’s ambition is only growing.

As for Phillips, she’s still hell bent on disrupting the pale, stale, male world of indie-rock — and she’s in it for the long haul. “My dream is to be still touring, with something valuable to say, well into my late 70s,” she grins, citing Patti Smith as her blueprint.

Listening to Soak, a record as enthralling and revealing as anything Black Honey has released, you don’t doubt she’ll get there.