Bernard Edwards - "Project Homocide" (Emerald City)

An all too often overlooked aspect of heavy metal - both by its fans and its detractors - is its rich sense of humor, which serves an integral role in perpetuating the vitality of the genre. Humor ensures that metal does not drown in its own cliches by, ironically, blowing them up to epic proportions only to revel in them.

Yet sometimes it is difficult to decipher whether to laugh with a band or laugh at it, which was my dilemma when I first laid eyes on Bernard Edwards' Project Homicide. Adorning the back cover was Edwards himself in black metal mode, crouched in a haze of fog while gripping a candelabra and "throwing the horns," equal parts King Diamond, Gene Simmons and Rob Halford. Over-the-top? You bet. Good for a laugh? Absolutely. But I still could not be absolutely sure whether or not this guy was for real until, while flipping through the CD booklet, I came across the icon of a skeleton bedecked in a tuxedo holding a sign which read "Comedic Cadaver Limited." So this is a joke, albeit one without a punchline. A parody, if you will. But is it funny?

Not really. The comedy seldom stems beyond the band's image, although I suppose an argument could be made that the simplicity of the lyrics is a commentary all its own. Whatever. But the musical mirth does have its moments, however, although they are few and far between. Like the off-key whistling that surfaces in "W.I.P. (War is Peace)," reminiscent of the Scorpions at their most pathetic, crooning about the "Winds of Change." The horror movie collage that precedes the opener, "The Mask" is an easy and predictable target. And the hidden track, a souped-up version of KISS' "Cold Gin," replete with an imitation of Paul Stanley's hysterical, falsetto banter from Alive, is certainly good for a chuckle or two.

But, quite frankly, that's about it as far as the album sustaining any interest. Project Homicide is plagued by similar pitfalls that have befallen other albums of this nature - the music is not enticing enough to make up for the sad revelation that the joke just isn't that funny. Too subtle perhaps. Lying somewhere between death and doom, the music consists of downtuned dirges plodding along at a mid-paced stride, a seemingly endless exercise in repetition, despite the fact that record label describes it, rather misleadingly, as "Grindcore Powergroove Rock 'N' Roll." Even Edwards' vocals are reflective of this trend, a clearly enunciated growl going nowhere, covering death, destruction and a few other metal cliches with little to no flair.

Take my word for it. You'll be filing this one right next to your Green Jelly albums, music whose novelty wore off almost as quickly as it was released. If Project Homicide even made it that far.

Reviewed by: Shawn Wedel