There's something delightfully theatrical about a band called The Bones and Cyanide, and the name alone sets the tone for what you might expect: moody, dramatic rock with a gothic edge, the kind of sound that thrives in a dimly lit room with red velvet curtains and a stage built for intimacy. The Copa Room has long been a spot where acts feel closer, where you can catch the sweat on a guitarist's brow or the flicker in a vocalist's eyes as they lean into a chorus.

Expect a setlist that probably swings between brooding, atmospheric numbers and sharper, more aggressive tracks, the sort of band that builds a following through word of mouth and late-night sets rather than radio play. If you're into acts that blend rock with a theatrical, almost noir sensibility, this is the kind of show where you show up not knowing every song and leave humming a few anyway.