CD Odyssey Disc 665: Body Count

As some of you will know, every once in a while I get together with a few friends who share my love of music. At our last gathering, we did a quick, informal (and not entirely sober) poll of everyone’s favourite concerts. Here are the results, unassigned to protect the innocent:

• Motorhead (1983)
• Leonard Cohen (1993)
• April Wine (1979)
• Melvins (2000)
• Steve Miller Band (1988)

Cool mix and I’ve got a bit of every band in my collection, with the exception of April Wine. Obviously that one wasn’t me.

Disc 665 is…. Body Count (Self Titled)

Artist: Body Count

Year of Release: 1992

What’s up with the Cover?  An artist’s depiction of a man who looks like he is very diligent about going to the gym, but not so diligent about carrying his pistol in a safe and secure manner. Someone should tell this guy what happened to Plaxico Burress.

How I Came To Know It:  My old roommate Greg owned this album and we both loved it. Also, a lot of the songs got played at clubs when I was into that scene. I bought it years later when – after years of searching – I found a complete copy with all the songs on it.

How It Stacks Up:  I was surprised to find Body Count has five studio albums, including one that came out earlier this year. I only have this first one, but I would be surprised if the other four were better. That said, this encourages me to check them all out.

Rating: 5 stars

On his 1991 rap album, “Original Gangster” Ice T included a metal song and served notice that he was preparing to blow the doors off the world of heavy metal. A year later, Body Count’s self-titled debut didn’t just blow the doors off; it stood in the ruined entryway, shoulders back and dick out, and proclaimed “We’re here. We ain’t goin’ anywhere.” For anyone who didn’t like it – that was just too damned bad.

I loved it then, and I still love it. In 1992 I didn’t know Ice T much at all before Body Count, beyond his reputation as a plain spoken rapper. It wouldn’t have mattered either way, because great music transcends genre, and Body Count laid down track after track of great music.

Ice T’s delivery is definitely aided by his rap experience. When singing, he stays on time. When he is spitting invective over the mad guitar riffs of guitarists Ernie C and D-Roc he knows just where on the beat to come in for maximum impact. There is something about swearing on time that is compelling – kind of like knowing when to drop a punch line in a comedy routine.

I’m from a small mill town and I like to think I can swear with a free and easy flow myself, but Ice T puts me to shame. He makes swearing an art, and moreover he uses it for effect; catching your attention when he wants you to know just how angry he is about social or racial injustice and why. All those who would ‘tsk tsk’ and say ‘there is always a better word you could use’ should listen to this album. Or maybe they shouldn’t – they’d likely be deeply offended.

Back to Ice’s singing voice. While it isn’t a powerful instrument like Rob Halford or Bruce Dickinson, it definitely gets the job done. On “The Winner Loses” Ice really delivers the emotional context needed for this song, which is about losing friends to addiction. Not a swear-word to be found here, because it would be out of place.

This album has so many great moments for me personally, including slamdancing at Scandal’s nightclub to the rambunctious “Evil Dick” an anthem to our baser needs and the other ‘head’ that whispers in men’s ears about how to achieve them.

Other songs sing about social justice, including “Body Count” the song, which captures the sheer frustration of a lot of inner city youth. Here’s an experience I have exactly zero personal experience with, but Ice T paints a painfully detailed portrait:

“Goddamn what a brotha gotta do

to get a message through

to the red, white and blue?

What I gotta die

before you realize

I was a brotha with open eyes?

The world’s insane

while you drink champagne

and I’m livin’ in black rain

You try to ban the A.K,

I got ten of ‘em stashed

with a case of hand grenades.

Tell us what to do…Fuck you!”

There’s that swearing again. If as a listener you weren’t focused in enough on the frustration of the previous lines, now you are.

Body Count is perfectly happy to insult you to get your attention – offend your sensibilities even. How this record became a lightning rod of anger over one single song (“Cop Killer”) still seems absurd to me. Let’s not forget that other songs muse about defiling Tipper Gore’s twelve year old nieces (“KKK Bitch”), or murdering your mother, chopping her into pieces, and driving her around the United States in plastic baggies (“Momma’s Gotta Die Tonight”). Like Bob Dylan, Alice Cooper, and Johnny Rotten before them, Body Count are trying to be offensive so you’ll pay attention. Frankly, this album has my attention purely through its amazing musicality, but that doesn’t mean I want to blunt other aspects of what makes it so viscerally powerful.

I was disappointed when Ice T removed the one song that offended everyone the most, but I fully understand his frustration. The controversy was threatening to overshadow his accomplishment of having conquered not only the rap world, but the metal world as well. I’ve got the full version, and I’m glad of it.

The album has 18 tracks, which should be too many, but six of those are little snippets of conversation or skits. None of these are more than 45 seconds long and those are all good anyway.

The remaining twelve songs are each a masterpiece in their own way. Sometimes they have something important to say, and sometimes they are just tales spun from a dark imagination for our horror and amusement. “Body Count” is a bold and brash project that has left its gooey telltale traces all over the history of rock and roll.

Best tracks: I like all of them, but in particular Body Count, KKK Bitch, The Winner Loses, There Goes the Neighbourhood, and Evil Dick.