Hard-Core Body Counting

What you might have seen at Lollapalooza in the summer of 1991 was no fluke. Ice-T, infamous hard-core rapper from south central Los Angler stole the show because his hardcore band, Body Count, kicked butt. They were the best act on the whole tour.

And now Ice-T, Beatmaster V, Ernie C, D-Roc and Mooseman have rewarded all of you eager hardcore fans who've wondered if Ice-T would dare to make an album that was real rock n' roll--so get ready for Body Countthe album.

This 18-track gem will pry open your mind and insert all of the vulgarity, hatred and violence that Ice-T carries around from his "formative" years in s.c. L.A. It begins disarmingly--a little skit where Ice-T approaches a parked police car to ask for assistance--but the ditty, and its ensuing musical accompaniment, "Body Count's in the House," plummet to the horrifying depths of police brutality and Ice-T's vision of revenge.

All of Body Count's tracks are genuine, grinding hardcore. Ernie C. flavors his thick guitar sound with heavy chops and a minimum of fast-handed solos--perfect for a Rollins-genre hardcore act. "Body Count," "Bowels of the Devil" and "KKK Bitch" begin with a rush of Ernie C's groove that is promptly followed by an explosive kickstart from the rest of the band.

"There Goes the Neighborhood" is the album's best track. The cut begins with a typical slow grind that every listener knows will in seconds explode into Ice-T's raging vocals (you'll be surprised by his easy cross-over from rap into rock) spewing verbal bile about racism and segregation. For the Top-40 jokers who think that a Nirvana mosh is top quality, I fear for their survival in a club crowd energized by "there Goes the Neighborhood."

Of course, Ice-T and the gang have garnered considerable flak for what many women and progressives say are misogynistic lyrics. However, had they ever listened to the man's material (though it would never pass a piety test with your local reverend), they might have seen the light. "Men Is Bitches Too," from Original Gangster, Ice-T's last rap album, clarifies this otherwise vulgar star 's broad definition of the term. A "bitch," he says, is anyone who turns on his friends, his community or himself. He, like other West Coast luminaries with different styles (think Slayer), claim that their intent is merely descriptive, not proscriptive.

All of which barely excuses tirades like "Evil Dick," a disillusioning, slow-moving song about Ice-T's inability to control himself, at least sexually speaking. Ice-T sings "Evil dick/Evil dick" at least twenty times (which pales in comparison to his innumerable usage of "motherfucker," but we won't nag him)--and we wonder how he can be so adamant about self-control in race relations but still permit himself to be dragged around by his independently-minded appendages. Which, of course, does not for a second detract from how cool the music is.

For rock and roll afficionados, should they find little redeeming value in Body Count's lyrics, will treasure the musical innovation and the considerable time Ice-T donates to his own brand of preaching about racial tolerance. Ernie C. represents the backbone of the group's musical expression, alternating the tempo from the blinding rage of mosh-tunes like "Cop Killer" into the subtle guitar lament in "The Winner Loses."

Body Count will prove that it is not simply "Ice-T's band--it is a flexible weapon from the inner city that has given rock fans one of the top 20 albums of 1992. Ice-T should think about making this his day job.