Invited| Review by V.Brewster
Photos: Barry Pells
Ríoghnach Connolly and Honeyfeet at The Glasshouse – 3/10/24
Ríoghnach (pronounced Ray-nah) Connolly is one of those artists who leaves you buzzing long after the final note. Honeyfeet’s performance at The Glasshouse was an unforgettable whirlwind of emotions, humour, and straight-up musical brilliance. After the gig, I sat down with Ríoghnach over a cuppa to unravel some of the night’s magic
Before a line was sung, Ríoghnach strolled on stage, wielding a large, bright orange shovel (yes, you read that correctly), the audience was instantly intrigued. “Why do I have this shovel behind the stage?” she asked over the microphone, presumably to the venue staff, to no avail. But the music wasted no time taking over, and from the first note, the band had the crowd hooked. The set was an exploration of joy and raw emotion, perfectly embodying what Ríoghnach would later jokingly refer to as the “Syllabus of Sorrow.”

One of the evening’s highlights was Ríoghnach’s prowess on the flute. In addition to her powerful vocals, she weaved mesmerising flute melodies throughout the set, adding an extra layer of depth to the music. The way she seamlessly switched between singing and flute-playing was a reminder of just how skilled a musician she truly is. The dexterity with which she played felt effortless, yet it brought an incredible richness to tracks like Another Song and Whatever You Do.
After the show, I asked her about the night’s dynamic, especially given that their usual guitarist, Ellis Davies, was temporarily replaced by John Diver. “It was John’s first gig with us,” she said with a grin. “We were easing him in – he’s a brilliant guitarist, just a bit shy so we sort of used a buddy system with Lorien [Garth Edwards, bass] for support – we’re really proud of him” And from how tight the band played, you wouldn’t have guessed it was his debut. Their chemistry was palpable from the first song.
Tracks like Colonel Hathi’s Trunk Juice showcased Honeyfeet’s solid musicianship, with Biff Roxby’s trombone and Phill Howley’s drums creating a groove so irresistible, the entire room was moving. There was a technical hiccup when John Ellis’s keys cut out for a moment, but Ríoghnach, ever quick with her wit, defused the situation with a perfectly timed, “Have you tried turning it off and on again?” – much to the audience’s delight.

The set reached a new high with Work It, a song that started with what can only be described as a crescendo of discomfort – FX that rattled your bones before easing into one of the most satisfying musical transitions I’ve ever heard. A groove so warm and tight, it felt like a nice big swig of brandy on a cold evening. Plus, the orange shovel was again celebrated by way of prop use. The track took the audience on a journey that felt smooth and completely satisfying, and by the time it ended, the room was fully immersed in the magic Honeyfeet had created.
Ríoghnach’s signature blend of humour and social commentary was on full display between tracks. Introducing a song about the Catholic Church, she quipped, “Because, without guilt, how could we ever truly enjoy anything?” The crowd laughed, but the underlying message was hard to ignore, even as we all danced along to the rhythm.
The night closed with Meet Me on the Corner, and the entire venue was on its feet, dancing and clapping along with the band. Honeyfeet had taken us on a journey filled with joy, sorrow, and everything in between, and by the end, none of us wanted it to stop.
After the show, Ríoghnach mentioned how she’d been dealing with an umbilical hernia, casually laughing as she recounted stepping off stage during an instrumental break to deal with it. “I literally sang my guts out,” she joked, and yet, no one in the crowd would have noticed anything but her flawless performance. It was a testament to her resilience and the effortless power of her voice.

I asked Connolly what she hoped people took away from Honeyfeet’s music, and her response had been measured, raw and unflinching as she carefully explained “I’m a funeral singer by trade and I hold space for people by the grave and I sing them over, into the ground. So, I think what’s really important for me is that we sit with discomfort and know that we are resilient enough to sit with those things that you don’t really want to talk about.” Ríoghnach continued, “I just want to drag up what people don’t want to talk about – over and over and over again, because I think that we live in a society where it’s not okay, to not be okay. Now it just so happens I’ve had a load of trauma, and I’m okay to talk about it; I’ve got the privilege. Privilege of having a microphone, privilege of being allowed and the privilege of being documented. So I intend on doing that.” she insisted, firmly. “What’s worth saying?” She asked, candidly.
Thinking back on the show afterwards, I can’t help but marvel at how Honeyfeet manages to blend humour, hard truths, and undeniable musical talent into such a cohesive experience. Their performance wasn’t just a gig – it was an emotional excavation, a cathartic release wrapped in groove and wit. And that’s something rare.
But whatever happened to that orange shovel?
Honeyfeet’s music is available on all major streaming platforms now, but I suggest you do yourself a favour and seek them out at a show – you can thank me later!
#findtheshovel