Asitis Productions / Daemon
It’s been a good 30 years since AIM (American Indian Movement) has been a radical force on American culture. Of course, there is a very good and bloody FBI reason for this, but it is tragic to see something so vital and pertinent reduced to fighting over mascot names and casinos. John Trudell was a part of AIM, and now is also a victim of Native culture being reduced to festival kitsch. Bone Days, as well, suffers from this dilution. Peddling that New Age-co-opted Native spirituality (“How do we sell our mother; How do we sell the stars; How do we sell the air; Crazy Horse; We hear what you say”) to a played-out, bluesy sound, Trudell somnambulates through a CD that drains the pity out of pathos. This is nothing you haven’t heard before done in a way that’s all too familiar — a retread even Firestone couldn’t pawn off as new. He either needs the experimental flair of a Robert Mirabel or the righteous, fire-and-brimstone fury of Zack de la Rocha. Bone Days is just bone-dry of the creative energy that makes any work memorable.