bones and the aft early version of new song from forthcoming second album...

Song for everyone

Bones and the Aft playing new song The Creek for the first time at The Horse Hospital on May 28th 2015, expertly recorded with two mic's by Mikey Kirkpatrick(aka Birdradio) and even more expertly and seamlessly edited by Chiara Ambrosio! 

The Creek

A taster from Bones &the Aft's forthcoming 2nd album The Rafter Habit.

Rochester

Mickey gets things all mixed-up, the front is back,
the takings giving.....His brain can't take the stress
can't take the strain of modern living......

One Shoe Mickey Rough Mix 24_3_17

A collaboration between bones and the aft and bird radio, a taster of the forthcoming album 'You've Been Kind'

The Baton Factory

Title track from the new Bird Radio / Bonesandthe aft collaborative album You've Been Kind. This track celebrates the house of Keano and Chloe in who's garden the band had the adventures spoken of in the song...

You've been Kind

From the album 'Mickey 'by Bones and the aft. Mutton Jeff is a local character in Herne Hill South London.

Mutton Jeff

Dirty Jobs..another track from the bonesandtheaft album Mickey.

Dirty Jobs

The 159 from Streatham Hill to Brixton and beyond....The opening track from The Ear, the debut album from bones & the aft

Brixton (The 159 from Streatham Hill to Brixton and beyond...)

Below are the full lyrics to the prototype bonesandtheaft track 
Yfra/trap..A Homage to one of the great hidden rivers of London ...Words John Bently Sax Arthur Bently

Yfra/Effra, 
the Brixton Creek,
the shape shifter of effluent
from the creeping suburbs
to the stinking Thames,
red bricked and rooved,
the stink piped prison
of belching fatberg Golems
fueled by pasta slime
and belching clingy wetwipes,
discarded facemasks
and red eyed rats
no poison can detox,
no sneaky maze riddler 
can Ku-klux  her hidden darkness 
on whiskered turnpike-tiptoes,
execute the rat trap blunt-slice
that splinters  bone 
but does not quickly kill,
like a furred jesus on a triggered cross
the thorndrips glooping 
metal scented in the midday heat.

The green-livered lentil griddlers,
wishing our sweet accursed city into
more of a home counties bailiwick
think they have cancelled 
the Poets Corner rat-run
with their wood-lego fairy gardens 
yet beneath these dulcet covens
of child-worship and genteel aspiration,
the real rodent city scraps and scurries 
in our shit-stream
fighting tooth and claw for each precious second of life awarded
down in the black pipe.

Clutch your unspoiled babies tight
as the trap sings snap! 
-sound frozen in the midnight  stillness,
sleepy eyes unfocus on brown oil 
leaking from open wounds
three or four oozing welts 
sticky thru a rubby shirt of hair,
inside  the bonecrushed whip-shop,
interior leaking  livid 
like taloned  torturers biblical
have sliced across his desert brown back,
have licked his messiah brow with rat-love 
and brung him loinclothed forth
to meet his fate.

A million million more



in the dark Yffra beneath
your crisp white sheets
insane with hunger
sharp yellow teeth 
await.

bones and the aft

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