Raw Bones @ Chicken Stock
Saturday 18th August 2012
Chicken Stock is the mini festival cobbled together and presented by musical maverick Pete Bentham and his house band The Dinner Ladies; the festival gathers together a selection of local bands who are part of the re-emergence of Liverpool’s live ”Ëalternative’ music scene, crams them into an unfeasibly small room, that rapidly warms to boiling point then lets them lose upon an audience of misfits and the plain curious”Â¦.so by the time Raw Bones stepped onto the makeshift stage, well, where to begin?
It was chaotic, it was shambolic, it was also some of the most primal, scuzzy dirty rock ‘n’ roll I have witnessed in a while and for that we should all celebrate…some 250 miles away the Cowell machine complete with all the glitz and glamour befitting its multi million budget was launching its opening salvo of its 2012 brainwashing campaign; no doubt within minutes the judges were declaring that first one and then another ”Ëstar’ had been found, that each ”Ëstar’ was different – what they mean is that they have created yet another GM modified formulaic brand of chart fodder with the lifespan of a Krispy Kreme doughnut.
Should the X-Factor care to check out some real raw talent then they too should have witnessed Raw Bones; tonight they comprised a nucleus of five but at various points expanded to both a seven and then a nine piece, racked across the back – three Cajon drummers – main man Bongo Mark joined by Tony (Dead Class), and Ben (Zombina, Long Finger Bandits) who pummelled out a beat so raw it was still dripping, trying to make sense of this was Phil Hartley on dbl bass who was content slapping his hog, as the band launched into ”ËRaw Bones’ front man Bazzy Dave, hip flask in hand begins to holler, literally fighting for space as gunslinger Danny unleashes blasts of drenched guitar fuzz…Raw Bones plunder the rock ”Ën’ roll library, drawing influence from the early days of rockabilly, The Cramps and some of the filthiest garage sounds you could ever wish to hear; think ”ËSongs The Cramps Taught Us’ then think again as Raw Bones clearly weren’t paying attention during lessons; instead they bring their own attitude and rhythms and create a unique car crash rock n’ roll.
The audience are up close, real close, its literally eye to eye contact, the noise rises as does the temperature ”â this is so intense, the crowd surge forward, the front row pushed headlong towards the stage, Dave merely steps aside stares to the ceiling and announces ”ËJezebel’ before the Bones let rip with another throbbing beat ”â this is mangled rock ”Ën’ roll that reaches back to the very earliest days, it’s in your DNA ”â until you hear Raw Bones you just didn’t realise it…the audience are unable to resist, and begin shuffling zombie style until Danny with his axe aloft parts audience as he steps from the stage to wander amongst the true believers; his place is taken by Jimmy O’Brien front man with Liverpool’ s own garage surf sons El Toro! who armed with a simple mouth organ treats us to some tormented blues…all the while the combined Cajon’s ooze, and that slap bass twangs ”â Raw Bones offer little finesse; what they do offer is primitive, head spinning desperate rock ”Ën’ roll that’s as vital now as it was all those years ago…
If Cowell and his lap dogs masquerading as surveyors of taste want to discover something fresh, something exciting then it’s at events like Chicken Stock that the true innovators will be found crafting a beautiful, raw unpretentious racket!!