BODY COUNT: “Born Dead” (Virgin)

Body Count, in case you don’t remember, is Ice T’s trash metal group, who became famous for their ‘Cop Killer’ track. Body Count’s first album was pretty okay by trash metal standards. In other words, don’t rush out and get it unless he have long hair and a headbanging attitude

Born Dead, on the other hand, is falling over, a total joke. For the most part it’s is an unmerciful pain in both cheeks of the arse. In the opening track, ‘Body M/F Count,’ the entire lyrics consist of: “Body Count!/Body muthafuckin’ count!” In ‘Killing Floor,’ the entire lyrics consist of: “No! Help!/It’s the killin’ floor, killin’ floor!/Yeah!/Ah!/Killin’ floor!/No!/Killin’ floor!/Ah!/Killin’ floor!/Body Count muthafucka’s!”

Most of the other songs are as minimal and mind-numbingly dumb as the above. Now, I know metal is a music not known for its elegant lyricism, but I have rarely heard it sound this stooopid. Maybe it’s an Ice T joke. Well, if it is, it’s a seriously bad one. Because, not just are the lyrics some of the most senile I’ve ever come across, but the music is thicker than any metal fan deserves to hear.

Ice T is a great bloody poet, who has composed some simply amazing lyrics. So, what the hell is he doing here!? Because you’d have got better lyrics for most of these songs if you stuck a mike in front of an alcoholic junkie on a seven-day high.

There is some redemption near the end of all this. ‘Surviving The Game’, ‘Who Are You’ and ‘Street Lobotomy’ are okay, while the title track, which finishes things off is reasonable. There are a few decent ideas circulating in these songs but lyrically they are hardly explored with any degree of depth or style.

Ice T can do so much more than this, and that’s probably what’s happening. He must be keeping any decent lines he gets for his next rap outings, and throwing Body Count the dregs of the dregs. Because when you hear Ice shout: “You killed my fuckin’ brotha!/Payback muthafacka,” again and again and again, you know you have hit dregs and big time.

• Gerry McGovern