Children of the Porn

Cemetery Rapist is a luminary, if you can call it that, in the rude, crude world of death/porno/goregrind. With outrageous song titles that poke fun at such light-hearted topics as incest, statutory rape, and violence against women, the band’s second album, Children of the Porn, is single-minded in its devotion to purveying its sample-heavy filth layered over a canvas of simplistic slamming metal savagery.

The tracks that make up the album are basically instrumentals built on an array of goregrind and slam death riffs. Sure, there are vocals in the form of some bizarre chirping but, for all intents and purposes, it’s just an odd effect that doesn’t even sound like a human voice that regularly pops into the mix. These riffs are simple and they range from mid-paced to moderately fast, with the drum machine following along mechanically, sometimes blasting, sometimes letting loose with bizarre palpitations like the ones in ‘Natural Born Whores’ and frequently following slow, basic time-keeping patterns. The presence of only those two instruments, drums and guitar, probably made for a simple and effectively rendered engineering job. The drums, though obviously not played by a real human, sound crisp and the guitar has a powerful tone. Both have a strong presence in the mix, with neither ever being overemphasized or shoved aside.

Each song contains at least one profane sample, like this one in ‘Preteen Bitch with the Itch for Dick' which begins with Cartman from South Park saying, “Hello? hello? I need to put my penis in a vagina. Any takers?” Usually, they appear at the beginning of the track but sometimes they're worked into the fabric of the song. ‘Slant Eyed Sex Slave' is an obvious example of the latter, with numerous clips of some evidently Asian prostitute (or sex slave, as the title suggests) trying to sell herself poking their way into the music every fifteen seconds or so. Some of the samples are mildly amusing but a lot of them are obnoxious and none of them add anything to the album other than a reference point for you to tell what song you’re listening to.

Cemetery Rapist's claim to fame, the “cricket vocals” of mastermind Clay Lamanske, which really do sound like swarms of crickets, are interesting and kind of fun but Lamanske's decision to eschew all other vocal techniques is a mistake. When you're imitating the sound of insects, you can't put a whole lot of variety or feeling into your performance, nor can you use real words. This in turn relegates them to a background position, one that's noticeable and adds a lot to the music but is no replacement for regular harsh vocals.

All in all, this is a mildly interesting effort. The riffs are reasonably satisfying, though the songs don’t really develop as they go, instead opting to switch between riffs that only sound connected because they're actually positioned next to each other, not because they build on or naturally bleed into each other. None of the musical ideas presented here are all that memorable, which makes the album seem more like one long stream of slamming, grinding simplicity with only the samples to break up the pace. The vulgar song titles, samples, and album art aim to be shocking but come off, to the seasoned metalhead, as hollow and immature (though to be fair, Lamanske wasn't aiming for something highbrow). The music displays these qualities as well, offering little beyond the novelty of the cricket vocals, which actually do add a lot, to attract or keep your interest. It's kind of fun if you want something silly and mindless and aren't offended by the humor's over-the-top crassness but if you're looking for a rich, deftly crafted piece that sticks with you, Children of the Porn, as the album's title suggests, won't do much for you.