Honeycomb - Pachiko | A Song That Almost Wasn't

/// A Sweet Illusion

The enigmatic return of Pachiko continues with "Honeycomb," the third single from their upcoming fourth album titled "Ginkgo". With previous releases such as the self-titled "Ginkgo," and "Shandy in the Graveyard," the trajectory of this record hints at something special—a refinement of their signature lo-fi haze, now laced with a pop sheen that feels both fresh and familiar. Pachiko’s sound has always been a playground of texture and mood, and here, they sharpen their focus without sacrificing the dreamlike quality that sets them apart. "Honeycomb" is immediately inviting, its simple chord progression dipping into a minor four for a nostalgic pull. The melody is effortless, a singalong without pretense, but beneath the accessible exterior, their usual spectral elements remain. Synths rise and fall like breath, reminding us that this is still the band we’ve found & followed through dim-lit corridors of sound.

/// Cracked Gloss & Lofi Glow

True to Pachiko’s ethos, "Honeycomb" embraces lo-fi production tricks, using them as a tool. Filtered vocals create the sensation of overhearing a secret through the phone, while synths warp and waver like distant sunbeams reflecting off wet pavement. Yet, there’s a newfound clarity in certain elements—the drums, the guitar—polished just enough to underscore the song’s pop sensibilities. The real heartbeat of "Honeycomb" is the bass. In the first verse, it dances in the higher register, playful and agile, only to drop an octave halfway through, grounding the song in something deeper, more felt than heard. The bass doesn’t just support the song; it sculpts its shape, dictating how the listener moves through its world. Synths mirror the bass’s octave jumps, intertwining elements in a way that feels both intentional and instinctual, reinforcing the song’s internal logic—a dream within a dream, looping back on itself.

/// Layers of Meaning

At first glance, "Honeycomb" might seem like a love song, its lyrics painting warm imagery of orange trees and nectar. But dig beneath the sweetness, and a different story emerges—one of dissatisfaction, dishonesty, and the weight of expectations. With lyrics such as -

"And your calf is sold, And your honey crushed" Showing that maybe a lot of the sweetness that was there is now gone.

"You'd have to cross the universe, To find something you're happy with" Lets us know that there is a deep dissatisfaction with either someone, or the writer.

The contrast between the song’s bright sonics and its quietly blooming narrative creates a compelling tension. Even the accompanying music video, centered on the pursuit of love, leaves room for ambiguity. If you’re not paying attention, it’s easy to get lost in the glow, to mistake longing for contentment.

/// A Song That Almost Wasn’t

There’s something inherently emotional about hearing this song—not just because of its composition, but because it exists at all. Pachiko was a ghost, a band lost to time, their music nearly swallowed by obscurity. Their 2001 disbandment could have been the end of the story, yet here we are, in 2025, unwrapping new music like a long-forgotten letter suddenly arriving in the mail. Every note feels like a gift. Listening to "Honeycomb" feels like an impossible accident—one of those rare moments where fate, chance, and human connection align to rescue something beautiful from being lost forever. If a single person hadn’t stumbled upon a Pachiko CD in a Nottingham record store, this song, this album, this revival, might never have existed. And yet, here it is, playing through our speakers, filling the space between what was and what could have been.

A melody that almost wasn’t. A song we were never supposed to hear. And yet, we do.

+ Here is a link to listen to the song on all streaming platforms. You can also listen to this song plus every song we've written about on our Spotify account playlists here. 

Honeycomb - Pachiko