Stark in streetlight holding
A knife to carve some warmth against the night
I can’t help but feel that I was misled after all
Speak the truth- if you know, why didn’t you tell me?
There’s a particular alchemy in Single Lash’s new single, Frozen Honey II; a strange, slow exhalation of heat meeting frost. The music feels like a conversation between instinct and intellect, where each chord is both an embrace and a withdrawal.
Nicolas Nadeau’s voice arrives like a sigh refracted through glass: clear, slightly wounded, but dignified in its restraint. There’s something of Michael Hutchence’s croon here, the kind of unforced magnetism that once haunted the airwaves of Kick and Listen Like Thieves. It sounds as if Frozen Honey II was a lost INXS collaboration with dreampop luminaries The Ocean Blue, discovered in a vault; lush, sultry, and alive with unspoken tension. Behind him, Neil Lord’s guitar hums with celestial precision, bending toward brightness but tethered to the low, honey-colored hum of bass and drum. The result is neither cold nor warm…it hovers somewhere in the middle.
Frozen Honey II unfurls like an argument between heart and reason. The lyrics speak of withheld truths, of being misled and yet unwilling to yield. There’s a knife in the imagery, but it cuts gently; more an incision of understanding than of violence. You sense the song reaching for reconciliation, yet it finds poetry in resistance. It’s a kind of quiet revolution, the realization that survival can be an act of beauty.
The arrangement swells and contracts. When the key changes arrive, they feel like small awakenings: the air shifting, the light bending through a cathedral window. There’s a grandeur here that never turns theatrical. The instrumentation is lush but never indulgent, alive but never frantic, even when the lyrics teeter on the edge of despair. Listening becomes a meditative act: the more you yield to it, the more it reveals its quiet strength.
Listen to Frozen Honey II below and order the single here.
Single Lash have shared stages with Killing Joke, Modern English, and Drab Majesty, but here they stand wholly themselves, architects of emotional architecture. Frozen Honey II feels timeless, like an echo from a parallel decade when elegance and ache still danced together beneath the same moonlight.
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