“We’re anonymous but relatable”: holybones are the bandage-clad band you need to know about

Who are holybones, the bandaged, anonymous group making electric underground music? Are they a band? A masked group of music makers? At this time, there really are no answers to these questions — the only thing I know for certain is that their EP, I got a good night’s sleep, is an excellent debut packed full of bangers that not only make me want to head-bang, but also strangely question when the last time I actually got a good night’s sleep was.

“Being in your twenties is rough”, says one of the band members. “They say this is supposed to be the best time of your life… Well, I don’t think they’re right.” As someone also in my twenties, I agree that, not only do I probably not get enough sleep, but that our thirties are, hopefully, going to be better. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but we collectively decide they probably will be. But in a time and a world where there are dozens of things to lose sleep over, it’s nice to know that someone — probably in their thirties — has gotten a good night’s sleep somewhere.

Ruminating on that, holybones is a project involving as few as two bandaged band members at times, and as many as “they need” in order to carry out each of their shows. Although the group doesn’t have a background in music, they’ve found songs to be the best way to communicate and express themselves creatively. Here, I catch up with four of holybones’ interchangeable members at what must be a very exciting time in their creative journey.

Congratulations on releasing the EP. How are you feeling?

It’s been an absolutely knackering week, but we’ve been hearing really nice things, and hearing us compared to artists who inspired us along the way. Even unconscious references [to other musicians, such as Mike Skinner] that fans heard poking through, and comparing us to our big inspirations.

Do holybones slots into a specific genre? Alternative, punk, dance…

We’ve found it difficult to define genre-wise, but that’s been kind of nice, as well. Nowadays, and maybe this is pretentious, but people don’t listen to music via genre. The way the internet feeds you music now isn’t the way we used to shop in different corners of the record store. People like lots of different genres. We just make shit we kind of like… Maybe the hard rock album is coming one day, but ‘genre’ is not part of our DNA.

Rock as in being a rock band? Is that a dream?

When I was growing up those were the gigs that you remembered when you went home absolutely knackered. They were almost cathartic. There’s a power and a danger in capturing that feeling. 

Tell me about a baptismal gig you went to that you’ll remember forever.

First Reading festival probably. Went to a tent and listened to Catfish and The Bottlemen. Had absolutely no right to be there. It was hot as shit, and black and white leather jackets galore. Age fifteen. That was the one that really stuck with me.

The bandages and the desire to remain anonymous, is that rooted in drill, or where does that desire and aesthetic come from?

It wasn’t specifically drill, rather more practical, more personal and artistic. Practically, one of our members was stalked for a number of years, whereas artistically, it lets you off the chain a little bit, being anonymous. The more ego you leave at the door ,the more opportunity you give yourself. It feels like nothing’s off limits at this point. I just like the motif as well — there’s something quite pleasing about the shape of our heads. That and a lot of things and reasons. 

Do you wrap up together before a show? I imagine that’d inspire quite a sense of community. 

We do wrap up together before our shows. It’s amazing, you know. In my everyday life, I don’t identify with being a performer, and then you put the thing on and it’s super freeing. When we put them all on, we’re all strangers on stage a little bit.

Strangers? To each other or to your audiences?

Kind of a bit of both, strangers to each other and our audience, while at the same time feeling like we’re part of something bigger. 

Talk to me about I got a good night’s sleep.

The first part is about growing up and being young in London, and how that can be really beautiful in an affronting measure. We love that it speaks to our time as kids but also what’s coming in the future. ‘These Are The Rooms’

harks back to a time you might think is gone, but it’s not really. You’re guided through an experience that’s a memory but entrenched in the present. There’s a conflict in that — memories of being young that present themselves in a ghostly way. But it’s lively, vivid, fun and beautiful — these two opposing sides of the same coin. It’s not message-driven, it’s a collage of youth from a range of moments. 

What does holybones represent?

A big part of the project is about making people feel less alone and making music that  people can relate to. Also, life in your twenties is uglier and prettier than they promised they would be — that’s what we’ve been losing a lot of sleep thinking about. There’s a lot of really cringy sanctimonious spoken-word music out there and we do our best not to do that. It’s cooler than that. There’s a kind of marmite element to our project where people aren’t going to fuck with it and that’s okay. 

You said it was a long process to write your lead track, ‘These are the rooms’. Tell me more about that.

We wrote it two or three years ago, but the words were too dense, and still not telling enough. I think now we see that everyone’s alone together. The world of holybones feels really lonely, but still intimate, shared and human. We’re anonymous but relatable. 

Do you feel self-conscious when you wrap up and perform? 

I think there’s something about the pageantry of putting on the mask — this ‘through the looking glass’ sense where you worry less about looking or feeling like a dick. We all come from creative backgrounds, but we’re not music people.

Will you ever take off the masks?

Good question. I don’t even know. I guess as long as [wearing them is] useful. But as soon as it doesn’t feel like that then we’ll move on. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t see a world in which it comes off, as long as it’s contributing to the art and expression.

You said none of you have a music background. How did you all meet?

We met during a play in a basement. One of us was acting, one directing, one producing. We didn’t make music together for a while.

How many holybones are there? 

Never smaller than two but there’s no capacity.

If there was just one it’d just be ‘holybone’.

And that probably means something very different…