BLOG: BONED
My friendship with Bones began in the Camden Monarch on the 14th of July 2015. I went to see them play after they piqued my interest with a promotional poster involving odd looking people wearing their own logo-adorned merch.
A friend, who avidly follows Slipknot, suggested we attend the potential creepfest due to her penchant for avant-garde facewear.
She assumed they were wearing masks.
Were they?
I was in before she’d even committed herself.
Alas, my comrade bailed (for understandable reasons) and left me flying solo until #Legend walked through the door. I’d somehow managed to coax him from housework, of the industrial variety, to join me on the front line for a sweaty night in North London.
Neither of us knew anything about Rosie, Carmen or The Beat, except that they’d provided a track for the Orange Is The New Black trailer.
“What a waste… what a waste… what a pretty waste!”
At first, we stood back, assessing our surroundings. Then, their on-stage energy consumed us, and we started throwing ourselves around an increasingly raucous moshpit.
At a later gig, also in the Monarch, there was a man in a onesie with a girl in a bra who didn’t know whether to push or hug me.
Once Bones had finished their set, Valerio and I gave each other a look that said we knew we’d just witnessed something special.
My partner in crime, who was soaked to the skin in aromatic moisture, told me that he needed some air in order to reinflate a pair lungs that were on the verge of collapse, which involved him pirouetting in the street, for Rosie Bones’ benefit, while I queued for more liquid nourishment. Upon his return, legend revealed that he’d learnt their names and had even participated in an ill-advised dance-off.
Although cautious at first, the band that would tour various continents with Skunk Anansie and the Kooks, eventually became the kind of friends that always hugged us a form of hello.
Unfortunately, my love of their music precludes me from taking pictures.
I simply can’t give up my space on their dancefloor.
