A collective of musicians from the streets of London. No names. No faces. No identity. Only the music — and it knows exactly where you hurt.
Written in the dead hours of London — where the city hums a frequency only the broken can hear. This is music for 3am. For the feeling with no name.
The mask isn't a gimmick. It's a philosophy. When you don't know who's singing, you hear the song — not the singer. The music becomes yours.
We are The Backbenchers. London-born, face-free, emotionally reckless. We make music that enters you — and lives there forever. Five musicians. One city. Zero identities.
@BackbenchersHQ — everywhere you exist