Sobbing Honey, Anna Homler is a quietly electrifying testament to collaboration across generations and practices, fusing the tactile immediacy of Sobbing Honey’s noise/improv prowess with the singular vocal and object languages of Anna Homler. Originating after a series of experimental sessions in Los Angeles, the album constructs its own idiom: honeyed drones, recycling loops, and Homler’s characteristically enigmatic vocalizations—more phonic invocation than language—establish a space suspended between play and heightened listening.​

Eschewing formal arrangement, each track arrives as a proposition—sometimes meditative and slow-building, other times a fevered assemblage of percussive breath, accidental melody, and electronic curlicues. Homler, lauded for her work as Breadwoman and her associations with sound poetry and new music, engages with Sobbing Honey’s shifting backdrops not as a guest but as equal provocateur, her approach to objects and non-linguistic utterance mirroring and unsettling the duo’s layered sound environments. The result is a mutual derangement of roles: found sounds shudder under whispered incantations, modular synths buffer homemade percussion, and room recordings bleed into glimmering synth clouds.

There is a tangible sense of ritual that runs through the album—of sound made to mark time, shift perception, and oscillate between absurdity and genuine transcendence. At moments, the listener finds unexpected warmth and humor amid the abstraction, evidence of a rapport established by deep trust and a shared reverence for improvisational chance. In this sense, Sobbing Honey, Anna Homler stands both as a celebration and an invitation: for adventurous ears, it’s a rare document of what happens when distinct voices, both new and established, surrender to the unpredictable joy of spoken/noise communion.