In a time where skate boarding is about as punk rock as a walk through Disneyland, where skateboarding movie soundtracks are infiltrated by hip hop and pop punk, Bones Brigade skids in just in time to skate hard and rock even harder. Everything about this will make you want to get off your ass and plunge down a hill, unless you can't even ollie like myself, and then you'll have to resort to just playing some Tony Hawk's Pro Skater. If you happen to be sitting in a wheel chair, don't let this leg required activity drag you down, there are songs that cover different subject matter. A stellar example of one of these songs is "Evil Dead", which in short is about the living dead, and although I have two working legs, I'm sure even the crippled will lay slain in the path of a horde of zombies. In true hardcore style, the lyrics are just as straight up as morning wood, in your face as a mouthful of food, and able to rhyme with satisfying results.
"Evil dead rise from the grave/Making the living their slave/Evil dead crawling out of the grave/Flooding the world, it's your flesh they crave"
Blake, the guitarist, and Andrew, the vocalist, collaborate lyrically to tell stories of skateboard utopias, friends selling out their "skateboard edge", loner midnight skate sessions, why skateboarding makes life worth living, and other non related skateboard situations such as the aforementioned zombie chow down, ninjas having real ultimate power, and social complaints.
Ignoring lyrics and ideals found in the music, I Hate Myself When I'm Not Skateboarding provides an exceptional hardcore album, reminding one that there is actual talent in punk rock which is obvious with trade off rock-n-roll sounding guitar solos, wailing like your throat with a turkey bone lodged in the esophagus. Consistently throughout the whole album, the pair of six stringed fireball furies will stay on your fucking back, leaving you little time to dislodge the turkey bone that is still preventing you from swallowing oxygen. One thing that helps this refrain from being repetitive and monotonous is the change ups in speed, so very sweetly aided by the visceral drum beats. If you've ever gotten diarrhea before, I'm sure you know what this feels like. I don't know if it's the tone/recording of the bass, or the notes that Phil chooses to blare, but I'm ready to hang ten any second- which would explain why I'm only wearing my underwear and a pair of fleece mittens. The last track, as some of you might know, is in fact a Minor Threat cover. It's covered well, kinda like asphalt...but steamier.
The hardest part about listening to this obvious sleeper hit of 2003 is choosing whether to thrash around one's bedroom or skate. But no matter what you choose, REMEMBER to wear protection like the skeleton dude in the liner notes, or you'll end up being a broken boned zombie one day.
