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.
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