BROKEN BONES: Time for Anger, Not Justice: CD

All right, I’ll admit it: I’m easily confused. But it’s taken me several orbits around our sun to realize that that’s a “good thing.” As human beings go, I seem to be some sort of rough fish that swims best in muddied waters where things are not clear and uncertainty prevails. So whereas your typical buttoned-up music critic might have his bloomers bunched around his ass regarding this disc—I am splashing about with stupid bullhead abandon. The rub of uncertainty, in the case of these Broken Bones gents, is as follows: this is a band I know very little about, but it seems to me that they have been allied with Wattie and the Exploited and have even had, at times, an ex-Exploited member or two in their ranks. We all know that Wattie is, under a heat lamp, about as bright as a bag of horse boogers and rumors have continued to circulate that he is a door-to-door salesman for a White Power organization called Blood & Honour. What does this have to do with Broken Bones? Very little, I hope. It’s just that the way I’ve always heard it: Broken Bones, Exploited, and Discharge are/were like Siamese triplets attached at the ass. That means what flows through one, flows through the others and that might very well include a gene for vicious canine stupidity. At very least, judging by the album artwork, they certainly share with Wattie an adolescent fixation with human skulls. But maybe that’s about all they share. The lyrics of songs like “G8” and “Justify War” would seem to indicate, unless I’m missing out on some delicate British sarcasm, that these gents actually fall somewhat left of center and therefore, they would be unlikely to foster any unorthodox sexual fetishes involving Adolf Hitler’s smart little mustache. Bottom line is that this music makes me envision shirtless goons with big hairy shoulders and too few teeth beating the droppings out of a bunch of Promise Keeper/Ken Jennings types in a dark alleyway. And music that makes me think happy thoughts like that always warms the cockles of this old bullhead heart of mine. Bones and the boys serve up Wooly Mammoth slabs of metallic hardcore similar in heft to that of the Exploited but, thankfully, without the stupid trimmings of their bottom-feeding kinfolk. Ask Oprah: guilt-free hardcore is a beautiful thing.

–aphid (Dr. Strange)