Princess of Brat Punk Delilah Bon invaded the O2 Academy Islington like a protest on Broadway. Glam, glorious, and full of bite, she commanded the stage from the first note. Her set was not just there for musical entertainment. It felt urgent, necessary, and defiantly loud. With The Princeless Princess Tour, Delilah Bon is flying a flag for female empowerment, providing a voice for the voiceless and a soundtrack of resistance.
Delilah Bon – The Princeless Princess Tour
O2 Academy Islington – 23 November 2025
Words: Rhys Tagg
Photography: Gina Smith
Delilah Bon’s bandmates emerged one by one onto a stage filled with flowers and beneath a wash of pink lights, their silhouettes building anticipation against a backing tape.
Finally, Delilah Bon herself appeared, clutching a sparkly silver microphone, dressed in a pale blue ‘princess’ gown. But this was no Disney fantasy.
She launched straight into the opening track as a full‑throttle feminist princess, rewriting her own fairy tale with angst, rage, and above all, power. Each lyric felt like a rallying cry, each mosh pit a chapter in her story of defiance.
On guitar, Anya Jasmine carved out sharp riffs and backing vocals. Sam Williams drove the set with thunderous drums, while Becky Baldwin anchored the chaos with star power on bass. Together, they formed a band that amplified Bon’s vision, turning the stage into a battleground of empowerment.
By the second song, the crowd was already popping and jumping, their energy feeding back into the stage. A few early microphone issues caused a brief pause, but Delilah Bon handled it with warmth, turning a technical hiccup into another moment of connection.
Throughout the night, she introduced each track not out of necessity, but to deepen the gravity of its delivery, every song framed as part of a larger manifesto.
Bon made it clear she is an artist for feminism, for queer and trans communities, for minorities, for anyone unheard. Wrapping up the tour in London, she declared, “We need more women, queer and angry people repping.”
She explained that she wrote Chop Dicks to strip away fear, to give people the confidence to go out without worry. Later, Not The President slowed the pace, a poignant and powerful track that saw the band step back to let their leader command the spotlight.
Guitarist Anya Jasmine raised a Progress Pride flag high before passing it to Becky Baldwin, who draped it across her shoulders like a cape.
Bon herself dropped down into the crowd, reaching out to be as close as possible to her captivated audience. As the song ended, the entire band joined the warm, caring throng. Friends and partners embraced, some holding tighter with tears in their eyes, a testament to the profound emotional weight of the moment.
From start to finish, Delilah Bon proved herself not just a performer but a storyteller, witty, brazen, and unflinching in her call‑outs of misogyny and the patriarchy.
Her lyrics carried bite, but her presence builds something softer too: safe, connected spaces where crowds feel less like an audience and more like a community.
I Wish A Bitch Would hit with particular force, a rallying cry for survivors of sexual assault, channelling rage into empowerment and fight‑back energy.
The set wound down with Dead Men Don’t Rape, a harrowing yet defiant anthem partly inspired by Sarah Everard, followed by Bush, a body‑positivity track that turned vulnerability into celebration.
Bon, ever the chaotic queen, capped the night by tossing the tiara she had worn all evening into the crowd, sending fans into delighted frenzy.
Roses followed, flung into outstretched hands as the finale bloomed. Even the support band, Crae Wolf, perched on the balcony, could not resist joining the revelry, rocking along to the closing numbers.
The show stood as a statement, a celebration of resistance, and a glitter‑stained act of defiance.
Crae Wolf
The night opened with the iconic Crae Wolf, who unleashed their brand of Baddie Metal Core on North London. A rare feeling for a support act to whip up such frenzy, but Crae Wolf had the entire room howling (literally), with fans proudly joining The Wolf Pack and barking back at the stage.
A fleeting mic issue threatened to break the spell, but the gothic rapper shook it off effortlessly, keeping the crowd locked in. Closing with the magnificent A Monster, Crae Wolf proved beyond doubt that girls can be rockstars too.
After the set, the artist blurred the line between performer and fan, heading to the pit to take selfies, sign merch, and meet the crowd face-to-face, affording a moment of connection that cemented Crae Wolf as a rising star.
In a venue this intimate, glimpses of empowerment were everywhere. Becky Baldwin, possibly the busiest bassist in the UK, briefly appeared to check her kit before vanishing back through the curtain.
Even the charismatic Røry and vocal powerhouse Marisa Rodriguez lingered in the shadows, waiting to support their fellow female force.
