I'm probably the last person that should be do a review on the latest album from Pennsylvania's Boxcutter. I haven't had a rough life. Both my parents raised me. I've never seen a friend die. Moreover, even though I wasn't the best kid in the world I never had any run ins with the law. Even today I live in a decent neighborhood and haven't any reason to think that the Po Po is going to come to my apartment to drag me off to clink.
The Ill Testament starts with a rap song called "King of Thugz." My knowledge of rap is limited but this sounds like your basic gangsta rap from the early 90's. There are threats of manhood and hostility as testosterone runs amuck. I steadied myself to listen to what might be the most embarrassing piece of urban poetry to hit the streets. Thankfully - I guess - the guitars and the drums kick into a somewhat metallic hardcore groove but all the chest thumping anger remains. The vocals are either shouted or rapped by Mad Joe Black or James I$mean (that not a typo) as they vocalize their dissatisfaction with other crews, shit talkers, and "wankstas." Whatever that is.
I actually didn't mind the metal assault. The riffs were heavy and the lyrics were somewhat comical but they are delivered with the vehemence of any NYHC group from the 1990's. However once I got to "Crown of Righteousness," which includes a rap by someone's kid, I couldn't take it anymore. It's embarrassingly cute when it shouldn't be. It's like being thirty-five and accosted by ten-year-old in a playground talking smack while his dad levels an Uzi at you.
More rap shows up about dead friends with some equally bad piano playing. Then there's a confusing song about BBQs turning into funerals. Boxcutter also feels the need to reference every single 90's rap act. If they aren't dropping Tupac, they are reminiscing about CBGB's and seeing the Cro-Mags. Well I guess Boxcutter is more musically diverse than I am when it comes whom to give props too. Speaking of hardcore, Boxcutter keeps talking about unity and being in this all together. Of course, this only applies to those who roll with the BFL. I get it; we are all into this hardcore community as long as we are cool with who allies themselves with your crew. That...makes...sense.
The Ill Testament is a tough as bullets slab of plastic from the streets. If you have a cursive neck tattoo of your baby mama's name or you rep BFL crew then you probably already own this CD. Alternatively, maybe you really liked the Judgment Night soundtrack; then this CD is for you. For me, I'm just worried I'm talking shit and I won't be able to show my face east of the Mississippi. That's okay; I'll stay right here in the safe confines of the Ford Parkway.
