Gravel N Bones
The Blackwater Devils
New Album - Out Friday December 5th, 2025
The Blackwater Devils drags the old curse of Blackwater Swamp into the 1970s, as the Blackwater Devils M.C. become the new vessel for Hell’s work on a Shovelhead Harley.
The Blackwater Devils drags the old curse of Blackwater Swamp into the 1970s. A century after the original demon rider was bound beneath the marsh, a new breed of outlaw rules the backroads: the Blackwater Devils M.C. When their paranoid, dope-soaked president orders a hit on his own enforcer, Jesse, the wounded biker wrecks and is thrown into Blackwater Swamp. The buried Hellfire that once rode a horse finds a new body to wear and rises again on a Shovelhead Harley. Across this album, the old Rider, mixed with his and Jesse’s memories, hunts down the men who betrayed him, seizes control of the club, cuts loose the law that thought it owned them, and is finally reminded that no patch, no territory, and no rank can free him from Hell’s work. By the end, the Blackwater Devils are no longer just a local outlaw crew; they are the roadbound weapon for a curse that has found a new age to burn.
The album opens on the swamp itself and the legend that never really died. Old-timers, barroom whispers, and backroad rumors all circle the same story: riders who vanish near Blackwater, ghost lights over the marsh, and a skeletal figure once seen on a burning horse. Generations have passed since anyone saw him, but the land still feels wrong, with trees leaning in, fog that does not burn off, and water that seems to remember bones. This track sets the stage: the Devil’s favorite hound is buried under the mud, but the curse is only sleeping, waiting for someone to stumble into its reach.
Here we meet the new world that has grown up around the old haunting. The Blackwater Devils M.C. run a shabby clubhouse on the edge of town, their bikes lined up against swamp fog and neon beer light. Jesse rides as Sergeant-at-Arms, reckless, strung out, and fearless in a way that makes even other Devils uneasy. The president, cooked on paranoia and pills, starts to see informants behind every argument and every bad run. This track paints the club’s daily grind of dope, bar fights, and backroad power, and shows the crack that will break everything: the president deciding Jesse looks more like a problem than a brother.
The tension snaps on a PCP run out on County Road 9. Under cover of night, the Devils ride out for a deal that is already poisoned from the inside, as the president has quietly called a vote, branded Jesse a rat without proof, and set the club up to take their own enforcer off the board. Shots erupt in the dark, and Jesse takes a round to the side. Mortally wounded but not dead yet, he manages to ride off. Bleeding out, tires skidding on gravel, he leaves a red trail toward Blackwater. The track ends with headlight and metal vanishing into the fog as his brothers ride away thinking the job is done.
Due to his weakened state from the gunshot, Jesse crashes and is thrown into Blackwater Swamp. In the black water and mud, the old curse finally finds a new shell. Jesse’s heart stops, lungs fill, and the weight of the swamp drags him down toward the same grave that holds the earlier Rider’s bones. But Hell has not forgotten its best weapon; the buried fire pushes up through water and rot, forcing itself into the broken body that landed in its grasp. Bones knit, ribs glow, and something wakes up that remembers Jesse’s life but is not Jesse anymore. By the end of the song, a figure claws its way out of the marsh, chest full of flames, drawn toward town on a road only Hell sees.
Crawling out of Blackwater, the thing in Jesse’s body carries more than Hellfire; it carries Jesse’s memories. In a rush of images, it sees the ambush on the road, the vote that marked him a rat, and the president’s drug-soaked paranoia that turned the whole club against their own Sergeant-at-Arms. That knowledge hardens into purpose: this is not just about surviving, it is about payback and takeover. On the swamp’s edge, the Shovelhead lies half-sunk where Jesse went down, vines and moss trying to claim it. The Rider kicks it back to life, flame answering in the cylinders like it has been waiting for him. As he swings into the saddle, he is no longer just Hell’s stray weapon; he is a Reaper with a target list, vowing to kill the president and take control over the very Devils who helped bury Jesse. The song closes with him roaring out of the marsh toward Blackwater, dead man’s name on his lips and a throne in his sights.
Fear turns to full-blown terror when the Rider brings the war to the Devils’ own gate. Under cover of darkness and headlight glare, he walks through their gunfire like it is rain, bodies dropping around the clubhouse as rounds tear through meat but never slow him down. He kills enough of them to prove exactly what he is, patched brothers bleeding out on their own gravel lot, yet pointedly spares a core of survivors. They see the flames in his chest, the way bullets do not matter, and they understand that this is the curse their town muttered about, now wearing their dead brother’s shell. By the end, the compound stinks of cordite and blood, and the club knows that Hell itself has come knocking, not just some rival patch.
Morning brings no relief. The Rider drags the president out in front of his own men and forces a confession that strips away every lie. There was no proof, no wire, no case, just a spun-out, paranoid president who ordered a brother killed because he was too fried to trust his own crew. The club stands in a circle and listens as their leader admits he voted for Jesse’s death on nothing but fear and bad drugs. Once the truth is spoken, there is no speech and no trial. The Rider puts one bullet through his head in front of everyone. Then he takes the dead man’s kutte, throws it on his own shoulders, and walks away as the new president by sheer force and terror, leaving the Devils to decide if they would rather follow the thing they tried to kill or stand against it and be next.
The old president’s sins were not just inside the club. He had been keeping the law bought and quiet for years. The county sheriff, used to his regular envelope, rolls up to the compound expecting to lean on scared bikers and keep the payoff train running. Instead, he finds a different man in the president’s kutte and a yard full of shaken Devils with rifles in their hands. When the Rider refuses to pay and lets the sheriff see the red glow in his eyes and the fire under his ribs, the lawman realizes too late that this is not a negotiation. The standoff ends in a hail of gunfire, glass, and blood spraying across a cruiser windshield, Blackwater’s dirty badge lying quiet in the road while the Devils stand behind their new leader, fully cut loose from any illusion of protection.
With the local law buried and the club under his control, the Rider might think he is finally free to run things his own way, but Hell steps in to remind him who truly owns him. Out on a lonely highway, another figure on a bike appears beside him, with no patch and no club, just a messenger that rides like smoke and heat. It tells him the truth he already feels in his bones: becoming president does not change the job. He is still Hell’s hound, and there is a new mark waiting, a rival chapter head far from Blackwater who traffics bodies and poison on a scale that has drawn Hell’s attention. The track ends with the Rider rolling back into the compound at dawn, ordering the Devils to gas up and arm heavy. They are leaving town not for business, but for a name Hell circled in fire.
The finale follows the Devils on their first long run as Hell’s extended fist. They ride hours out of state to a fortified clubhouse where the marked president holds court, surrounded by soldiers and money, convinced he is untouchable. Inside, the Rider confronts him face to face, lays out the sins he thought were buried, and then shows everyone in the room what marked really means, hand on the chest, red eyes burning, and a man turned to ash in front of his own crew. A brutal gun battle erupts as the Devils and the rival club trade bullets, leaving blood, broken bodies, and at least one dead Devil on the floor as payment for the work. Before they ride out, the Rider leaves a scorched sign in the bar and a terrorized handful of survivors who will spread the story that some patches ride with something worse than death at their head. The album closes with the Blackwater Devils tearing down a dark highway, Blackwater shrinking in the mirrors and Hell’s flame still restless in the Rider’s chest, promising that this is only the first name on a very long list.
The next chapter in the Gravel N Bones saga, continuing the story begun on Saga of the Damned. The demon rider returns for one more ride into Blackwater.
The Damned Still Ride picks up long after the gunsmoke and grave dirt of Saga of the Damned have settled. The farmer-turned-outlaw, slaughtered with the Black Hand and dragged back from the grave as a demonic rider “more feared than death,” has spent a century as the Devil’s enforcer — the same spectral figure glimpsed in “Devil’s Dust,” riding from town to town to drag the wicked into Hell. But even curses have an ending. This album follows one assignment gone wrong: a single preacher in the swamp town of Blackwater. What starts as just another soul to collect unravels into a reckoning with crossroads deals, faith, innocent blood, and an older, swamp-born power that even Hell didn’t account for.
A century has passed since the farmer died; the Rider has become pure function — Hell’s blade on horseback, cutting down sinners across a dying world. He’s no longer a man seeking vengeance but the Devil’s dust, an immortal instrument of judgment whose humanity is long buried beneath ash, iron, and a hundred years of blood and dust.
On another endless ride, something changes: the Devil burns a new name into his mind — a preacher in a quiet town called Blackwater. Unlike the killers and butchers he usually drags down, this man looks clean, with no visible trail of sin. The Rider feels the first crack in his certainty, but the brand is set; orders are orders, and he rides toward a swamp town that doesn’t seem to deserve Hell’s attention.
Inside the chapel, the Rider confronts the preacher who waits calmly at the cross, fully aware his soul is already claimed. The Rider demands to know why Hell wants him and threatens to burn the whole town — families, fields, and children — if the man won’t confess his debt. When the preacher refuses to explain, choosing faith and silence over a deal, the Rider walks out with fire in his chest and a murderous promise on his tongue: if the truth won’t come from the man, it’ll come from the flames.
As the town teeters on the edge of annihilation, the preacher finally breaks — not for his own sake, but to spare Blackwater. On his knees, he confesses the real sin: years ago he went to the crossroads, signed the Devil’s ledger, and traded his soul for fame, a legend’s name, and the roar of crowds. The “good man” face was just another mask over an old deal. With the debt laid bare, the Rider’s doubts vanish; he brings the flames and sends the preacher’s soul where it was always destined to go.
Blackwater rises in fury the moment the preacher dies. Townsfolk and the sheriff draw iron in the street, determined to kill the thing that burned their church. The Rider reaches for Hellfire to wipe them out, but the power fails — they’re not on Hell’s list, so his curse gives him no flame against them. Forced to fight as something almost mortal, he answers bullets with bullets, mowing them down in a cold, one-sided massacre where their only weapons are lead and prayer against an unstoppable damned thing.
In the aftermath, the town lies broken and the street is lined with bodies. Out of the smoke steps an old woman from the swamplands, shovel in hand, who speaks to him like she’s seen his kind before. She tells him that no curse burns forever, no fire rides without end, and that the earth — and the swamp beyond town — will one day reclaim what Hell stole. Her words plant a deeper fear than any gunshot: a prophecy that there is an end to even the Devil’s flame, and that end waits in the black waters nearby.
Drawn by the prophecy and the pull of something he doesn’t fully understand, the Rider enters the Blackwater swamp and meets the true power that haunts it: a witch wrapped in borrowed beauty and old, rotting magic. Their battle is vicious and surreal — roots, trees, and the swamp itself rise against him as her glamor peels away to reveal the ancient horror beneath. He cuts her down again and again, fighting both her curse and the land she commands, until he finally destroys her… but the swamp has already taken note of his sins.
In the closing chapter, the Rider’s war with the witch and the swamp reaches its true cost. Even with the witch slain, Blackwater Marsh won’t release him; roots coil, mud swallows, and the land pulls him under as if Hell and earth have agreed on his final grave. There are no more souls to take, no more roads to ride — just bones, mud, and dark water closing over the Devil’s favorite hound. The damned still ride… until Blackwater takes him, binding the legend beneath the swamp where judgment can’t reach and the fire finally dies.
Saga of the Damned tells the tale of a simple man whose life is destroyed by greed and fire. From farmer to vengeful outlaw, from blood-soaked avenger to a demon rider beyond death itself, each song is a chapter in his descent. The album runs like a Western epic - brutal, merciless, and supernatural by its end.
He begins as a humble man working hard on his land. Life is simple, harsh but meaningful. Yet rumors spread of bankers coveting his farm. He vows he’ll never give it up, even if it costs his life.
His worst fear is realized. The banker’s hired men burn his home in the night, killing his wife and young daughter. He wakes to the smoldering ruins and the silence of loss.
Seeking justice, he turns to the sheriff, the church, the community - but no one will help him. The law is bought, the townsfolk are silent, and the church offers hollow words. His faith in justice is shattered.
His first act of revenge. He hunts down one of the arsonists alone. The kill is messy, brutal, not heroic. It’s the first time his hands are stained, and though it brings no peace, he feels the pull of vengeance.
He falls in with the Black Hand, a ruthless gang of killers and gamblers. Around a smoky card table, he proves himself by violence and is welcomed in. He abandons the man he was and embraces the outlaw’s path.
With the Black Hand at his side, he hunts the men who burned his family alive. One by one they fall in a bloody ambush. He tortures one for the name of the banker who paid them, then kills him without hesitation.
The final strike. He and the Black Hand storm the banker’s guarded house. A violent firefight ends with the outlaw dragging the banker into his iron vault, dousing it with kerosene, and burning him alive among his gold. In this act, the last of his humanity dies.
With vengeance complete, he realizes he can never return to the man he was. He is now a murderer, feared and hunted. There’s no redemption, no peace - only the outlaw life.
His descent deepens. Drunk, violent, reckless, he kills without reason. Wolves gather in his wake, drawn to the smell of blood. The bottle and the gun have consumed him.
Now infamous, crows follow his trail like omens of death. Wanted posters cover every town, but every posse sent after him ends up in the dirt. He embraces the legend of his cruelty, knowing he’s become death riding on horseback.
The law finally gathers enough men to crush him. After a bloody bank robbery, the Black Hand is ambushed in a canyon. His crew is slaughtered, and he himself is shot down and buried in a shallow grave. It seems like the end - but Hell won’t let him die.
The finale. Dragged from the grave by the Devil’s hand, he rises as something not human - a demon outlaw. He rides from town to town dragging men’s souls to Hell, unstoppable, eternal, more feared than death itself. He becomes the entity protrayed in the song Devil’s Dust from the album Graveyard Psalms
Gravel N Bones blends Country, Dark Country, and Southern Rock on Graveyard Psalms, a brooding debut forged with gothic edges and outlaw grit.
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