Bone Awl - Night's Middle
June 4 2009 at 10:26:57 PM
What a great gawdamned new Bone Awl EP
Night’s Middle is. The Novato tandem barely edged out Pat Delaney’s hip flask as the only redeeming bit at NoFun light-years ago and since continues to stiletto-strip their sound further down to a level at once retaliatory and prostrate. Three songs only – the title track weakened considerably by an overlong sample that rivals anything Richard Burton belted out after a bottle of Irish.
Opener “You’re Late” is Bumper Sessions 4-Skins, “Evil” or “Clockwork Skinhead” raked with shattered bumwine bottles, beaten into shape via quick street-stomp kit work and a vocal delivery right at fucking home with the boogey-man whisper snarls of Chrome’s
Red Exposure. The riff is the kicker here, “melodic” crackhead whistle through destroyed dental work. Childish, driving and pointless, the shit moves incessantly ahead, bold, hopeless, stupid, and stays with us like the worst kind of self-loathing – debilitating, taunting. The other two tracks are thankfully more of the same, leaving me wondering why Eric Gaffney never scratched his hardcore itch and went balls out on basement Oi! via pawnshop three-string and boombox.
Late to the party? Initiation’s quick ‘n’ sleazy. Nada gimmick here. No background to catch up on – just so long as the duo can refrain from talking to the “press.” Predilections for Artaud, ur-primitive prose, Xeroxed coverart and grudge-fucking aren’t necessary, but won’t hurt your reception. “Day / Could be / No / Further Away!” Eat your lil’ twink heart out, Dom Fernow.
[Stewart Voegtlin]
Bone Awl
Night’s Middle
2009
Nuclear War Now!/Klaxon
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When I can't listen to Ildjarn any longer...
BONE FUCKING AWL!!!!!!
And I can think of nothing more essential to the black metal art than eating the flesh of one's own heart. Or as Volahan express it: "Toma este ofrecimiento de la sangre purgamiento de la identidad con el ensuciamiento ceremonial entidad envenenada del mal presentate venido a mi conocimiento maligno expon tus ritos sagrados del paso inducido en ritual del trance la deterioracion del sentido revela exaltacion de voluntad mas alla de mis necesidades egoistas
proclamare no mas vida o su idea disonancia de la mortalidad mis ojos ven el sonido de la eternidad."
And nothing more slavish than the backbiter, the one who tries to taste the flesh of his fellow from behind.
...
Just finished the 300-mile drive back home moments ago. Volahn is still hurting my ears. Bone Awl is still hurting my neck. Teeth were Gnashed and Crushed. No earplugs. Black Twilight Circled. Sleep now.