MADE OF METAL: Nine Leaves dangerously lame

Sound the horn! I bid ye welcome to my land of brutality!

It dawned on me recently whilst sitting atop my golden throne that on the whole, I have been far too benevolent a ruler. In my time here I've dished out too many kind words, too much praise for my metallic idols. In other words, I found myself wondering if I'd gone soft, perhaps vanilla. There is a balance to maintain, after all, and there are those that must be made an example of. So, in the spirit of fairness and the cosmic equilibrium of good and evil, I grant you Made of Metal's first merciless sack beating (the burlap kind, not that kind) and execution by rusty, dull axe. Limbs will be served after the main event. But before we start the beating, perhaps you'd like to know a little bit about this poor soul and how they wandered into this land.

The musical "collective" known as Nine Leaves made several grave errors that led them to these gates. First, they named their new album Peace in Death. Reasonably metal, no? Second, they plastered on the front of this new album apocalyptic artwork strikingly reminiscent of the great metal cover artist Ed Repka. Third, they sent this deceptive package into the hands of an aspiring scribe of brutality eager to review his first press materials: me.

So, imagine my surprise when, upon looking to welcome this new subject into my kingdom, I discovered that Nine Leaves is in fact a social/eco-conscious hip-hop project, and a really lame one at that. Shocked, hurt and betrayed, I called out my minions to drag Nine Leaves away to the dungeon to await punishment. The executioner's blade grows hungry. The time is now.

Nine Leaves is the brainchild of Zack Hemsey, a composer, according to his own Web site, "known for awakening the emotions of his listeners" (the site is smothered in similarly stock, trite descriptions). Strike one for humility. The site also reveals his affinity for wearing brown and gray. Strike two for being blind. Peace in Death, the group's second album, is a kind of mish-mash of hip hop and obnoxious female warbling set over beats so weak they make Will Smith's albums sound downright dangerous.

And therein lies the problem with this whole pathetic production; for an album and promotional package that claims to break the rules and push the envelope, Peace in Death is about as tame a work of art as I've ever experienced. The beats are thin and simple, sounding not unlike something I might tap out on the desk while I'm bored in class. Hemsey tries to spice the record up with a choir of incessant my-first-Casio-Keyboards, but fails to play anything I haven't heard in a depressing insurance commercial. Likewise, the look-how-deep-we-are lyrics are rapped out with zero enthusiasm.

I have no problem with hip hop, environmentalism or social consciousness. I don't really even have that big a problem with dudes who wear brown and gray, but history's greatest fanatics and dictators taught us that if you want your message to be heard, you have to put a little more zing in your brew than Hemsey and co. saw fit to on this release. The Care Bears are more militant than these guys. Give me rage. Give me give me calls for the bombing of oil rigs. Give me Malcolm X on meth set to blast beats and trip-hop. Give me something dangerous. Then we'll talk. Or not. Off with their heads!