Out of the gutters of the streets, smothered in green slime, putrid as it can get, fouled to the core of its bone structure, raw and immeasurably filthy, so let's head down to the basement and listen to some music because stained garage calling is cutting the airwaves. Back to the drug smothered, fuzz suffocation of gloom and stoned days of the early 70's of BLACK SABBATH with the first five years of the 80's tarnished vulgarity of the speedy MOTORHEAD, mucky VENOM, soiled HELLHAMMER and smeary CELTIC FROST. However, you will also have to add a sprinkle of late 80's Death Metal to the mix with a slice of Crust / Punk for the completion of this grotesquery feast. From the sewages of Chicago, the trio bashers of BONES escaped captivity as a fugitive of the old days, ransacking the modern methods, burying them under a trash heap. Remaining with Planet Metal, and still glorifying the arts of inclement sleaze, BONES issue their next volume of oblivion with "Sons Of Sleaze". Clinging to the past, without looking forward but with eyes closed, this trio will make an attempt to assimilate your corroded mind to their building murky heritage.

It was no easy ride at all, as my ears had to adjust to the undone production values that elegantly speaking, were less to be desired. It was like listening to VENOM's "Welcome To Hell" or the HELLHAMMER / CELTIC FROST primary introductions, but even those were slightly polished in comparison to this heavily old school feel of a tape cassette. With that out of the way, "Sons Of Sleaze" also had some grubby music to offer. Simplicity is the band's my method of action, guaranteeing it as straightforward without letting you wonder around too much, because there was nothing more to see actually. At times while keeping the clatter to a certain level that it would be rather easy to listen to them, BONES surprised with elements of late 70's Classic Hard Rock that virtually upgraded the despoiled arrangements that often were hard to bear. When the blast beats came down the stretch and with the poor mix made it hard to withstand the concentration of fervent noise like on "Mindfucked" for instance, a song that truly abides by its title, or "647 Bastards" and "Maggots" that were just too much. However, soiled as it may be, BONES made is possible to appreciate the binding between rotting Metal to mucky Punk with "Poisoned Breed" that blasted like old VENOM but even more vicious, or "Sons of Sleaze" that has a fine vibe of old grooves that felt pretty neat as it ended up being a rather catchy tune, or "Bad Signs" that implemented a staggering disposition of almost a Doom demonstration, crushing with battering main riff, slightly taking the song to early atmospheric CELTIC FROST flashes, the band's best track of hellish defamation that included a wicked solo effort.

Beforehand of listening to this piece, I knew that it wouldn't be something developed, but honestly I was looking for something in the proximity of a loose cannon, a sort of bestiality that will be oozed up with tantrum. BONES could have made this release somewhat better with a marginally better production, but I guess that it goes with the territory.