Pass the Aux 004: Warm On A Cold Night by HONNE
futuristic, jazz-laden soul for wistful, after-hour moments
Hey, I’m Brandon and welcome to mint\brand – my weekly canvas to be human, explore my brand + music obsessions & share them with you.
In Pass the Aux, I spotlight my favorite records worth savoring from start to finish. Each issue ends with an amuse-bouche of new (& old) heat that I can’t stop listening to.
Listening notes: Lo-fi radio in a Ghibli film; dimly lit streetlight reflections after an intense rain; the half-buzzed comedown from an eventful night
Perfect for: Melancholic, wishful strolls flanked by dancing boardwalk lights; the next time you’re halfway through the a glass of something strong
Fun fact: The word honne roughly translates to “innermost feelings” or “real intentions” in Japanese. Perhaps then, it’s no surprise why HONNE’s debut LP blends so well into those little moments of clarity you encounter along on life’s rollercoaster.
Hailing from East London, James Hatcher (producer) and Andy Clutterbuck (singer, producer) comprise the duo whose contemporary, synth-filled, groovy soul sound is seemingly tailored to fill the silence of life’s quieter moments. The comedown moments, if you will – when the party has come and gone, and you’re left with an expansive solitude to explore your innermost thoughts.
Sophisticated and vulnerable, the lyrical range and emotional spectrum found on the lead track Warm On A Cold Night sets the tone for the rest of album. Intimate and snug, Clutterbuck’s sleek vocals guide you through an exploration of yearning in a way that is more restorative than depleting.
What makes Warm On A Cold Night such a standout listen is how acutely it recreates the feelings of lovesickness and hope. Someone That Loves You and The Night are real gems that encourage you to process your own complicated life stories by witnessing the artists navigate their own.
Combined with wonderfully crafted instrumentation, Warm On A Cold Night shepherds you along a chic, emotive journey from start to end, traversing the universal feelings of desire, longing, and wandering in a most cozying manner.
If you listen to one track, make it:
Someone That Loves You (feat. Izzy Bizu) – if you’re like me, this song will bring to mind that one person our mind loves to return to, time and time again. Interestingly, it’s that re-experiencing of old, familiar wounds that’s likely to keep this track on repeat.
Three very good flavors of house for you this week:
Rock with Me (feat. Syon) by Kisch | 2:44, 2020, House – A lovely contemporary revival of the classic, keyboard-driven house sound.
Train by Sylvan Esso | 2:58, 2020, Indie-Electronic – A quirky, bouncy, upbeat indie x house crossover from Sylvan Esso’s latest album, Free Love.
Praise (feat. Gunna) by Tchami | 3:30, 2020, House – We love unexpected crossovers on this side – I did not see the YSL drip king hopping on a Tchami future house beat!!
At Long Last, Aēsop: A Salve to Solitude
Ptolemy, Aganice and Callippus: a trio of scented candles, each named for an important figure in ancient astronomy.
Since ancient times, the positions of the stars have been used to chart voyages across the ‘wine-dark sea’, as Homer wrote in The Odyssey. On land, lighthouses have long been used to warn sailors of dangerous areas and to provide navigational aid when cloud cover masks the night sky.
Lighting a candle is a simple, age-old gesture performed for practical, spiritual and aesthetic reasons. And while the combustion of humble wax may be a less dazzling source of light than the night sky, it can offer a similar sense of solace for those who’ve endured turbulent waters.
Inside the B.I.G. homie Bjarke Ingels's Jetson-like houseboat in the Copenhagen harbor
“It has the past, present, and future of Copenhagen all in one glance,” [Ingels] says of the views. “Look east and you can see the sun rising. Look west and you can see the sun setting over the queen’s palace.”
Strange days with Khruangbin, at home in Amiri
From the start, Khruangbin have been making blunted, transcendent psychedelic jams that evoke late evening sunsets and curls of incense smoke rising across a humid orange sky. It’s a sound borne of omnivorous and voracious music-listening, of an obsessive catalog of influences smashed together into music that seems readymade to be discovered in a dusty record crate, flipped, sampled and turned into something new.
Though Khruangbin is about the artistry of making music, and what happens when three like-minded people get together to create, it’s also, at least subconsciously, a meditation on what it means to be a music fan, and how an enthusiasm for music can bloom outward into a project that mines its influences even as it breaks new ground.