It reeks of hot tarmac, cold beer, and a dash of the devil — Bone Church are back, and they’ve brought the bloody thunder with them. Hailing from New Haven, Connecticut, this five-piece has been brewing its own heady blend of doom, blues, and heavy rock since 2016. Their third record, "Deliverance", isn’t about nostalgia — it’s about pure combustion. A fuzzed-up, sweat-soaked love letter to the ’70s, written with calloused hands and zero pretense.
Opener “Electric Execution” kicks like a mule. No fancy intros, no filler — just straight into a storm of riff and roar. Imagine Grand Funk Railroad colliding with Diamond Head in a smoky bar somewhere off Route 66. Dan Sefcik and Nick Firine sling riffs like they’re throwing punches, while Jack Rune hollers and howls like a preacher mid-possession. It’s lean, loud, and gloriously filthy.
Then “Lucifer Rising” slides in, all menace and molten groove. Sabbath would be proud — but this isn’t copycat territory. Bone Church keep things driving and alive, doom for the open road rather than the grave. Rune sounds like he’s raising a glass with Lucifer himself, and you’re damn glad to be invited.
“The Sin of 1000 Heathens” is pure Bone Church — bluesy as hell, thick as smoke, and utterly hypnotic. The riffs roll like thunder, the rhythm section hums like a V8 engine. Then comes “Goin’ To Texas”, a proper barroom belter. It’s sweaty, swaggering, and grinning from ear to ear — ZZ Top with a mean streak and a hangover. The Hammond organ sneaks in like a ghost at the party, and before you know it, you’re singing along with a beer in hand.
“Muchachos Muchachin” drifts into the desert, all sun-baked fuzz and woozy rhythm. The kind of tune that makes you see heat mirages and smell the petrol. You half expect Kyuss to roll up and join the jam. Then “Bone Boys Ride Out” drops the hammer — a biker-rock anthem made for cracked highways and dirty dive bars. It’s pure throttle, no brakes, and all attitude.
And then there’s the closer “Deliverance”. Eight glorious minutes that start slow and smoky before erupting into a full-blown Southern rock sermon. It’s epic, emotional, and proper massive — the kind of track that would tear the roof off any live set. Guitars soar, drums pound, and by the end you’re left with your jaw somewhere near your boots.
"Deliverance" isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel — it’s setting the bastard on fire. Bone Church don’t mess about with reinvention for the sake of it; they make the old magic burn hotter. They take the bones of classic rock, strip ’em down, and rebuild them with grit, groove, and a grin. It’s not nostalgia — it’s resurrection.
Built for long drives, late nights, and dodgy bars with sticky floors, "Deliverance" hits like a beer-soaked sermon from the church of volume. Loud, greasy, and gloriously alive. Bone Church don’t just deliver — they bloody detonate.
-Helge Neumann
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