If the US is falling apart – and with the highly vocal, highly terrifying rise of the Christian right and the NRA’s flat refusal to acknowledge that access to guns might just increase the chances of innocent people getting shot, things aren’t looking so brilliant right now – one positive for fans of heavy music is that the resulting fear, anger and nihilism from some of its bewildered citizens is being converted into the kind of merciless noise that could topple empires.
Bone Dance are furious. That much is clear from the pained howls oozing from their self-titled album, tar-thick, sludgy, bleakly groove-laden riffs powering them bullishly along, while intense, heart attack drum blasts and weird, mournful breakdowns raise the sense of impending, unstoppable apocalypse.
There’s no letup, and no moments of light. In their hands, dipping into desert rock means freezing, black nights in the wilderness, with only your own blackened screams of anguish to keep you company. Join them in their outpouring of despair – it’ll make you feel better.
