Vim Fuego If you were once one of the world’s best regarded death metal vocalists, why in the hell would you release an album of Judas Priest and Iron Maiden covers?

The aforementioned vocalist, Chris Barnes once had the death metal world at his feet. He was lauded as the driving force behind Cannibal Corpse, the world’s biggest death metal band, courting controversy and attracting the curious and the rebellious the world over. His gore laden murder music earned him notoriety and publicity throughout the metal world, ultimately diffusing death metal’s diseased tendrils to new, far flung audiences. Cannibal Corpse released four genre re-defining albums with Barnes, who then decided to try something a bit different, forming death metal’s best known supergroup side project Six Feet Under with Allen West from Obituary.

And then all the zombies came home to roost. Barnes and Cannibal Corpse parted ways acrimoniously. Fans and critics alike thought Cannibal Corpse would sink without their talismanic vocalist. Six Feet Under’s more laid back approach to death metal, injecting doses of both rock music and THC looked like the way forward for death metal.

History has proved otherwise. Cannibal Corpse’s music improved immeasurably with a more dynamic new vocalist in George Fisher, while losing none of their gore obsession. While Six Feet Under had legs initially, the band’s style never caught the imagination of the wider metal world, although it does have a dedicated core of fans. The band is now no longer a band either, but Chris Barnes and guests.

However, the guests Barnes gathered for this album are pretty fucking good. In a strange twist of fate, guitarist/bassist Ray Suhy and drummer Josh Hall are both members of drug themed Cannibal Corpse parody band Cannabis Corpse. Suhy in particular impresses, proving repeatedly that not only can he chug along with the gruntiest of rhythm guitarists in death metal, he can also shred and wail too. The song selection is original too, avoiding the obvious candidates like “Breaking The Law” and “The Number of the Beast”, despite the pun in the album’s title.

“Night Crawler” starts with a bludgeoning stomp, and sounds promising, right up until the moment Barnes opens his mouth. Oh dear… His one dimensional growl instantly flattens Rob Halford’s legendary operatic wailed melody into a tuneless drone. The spoken passage is a silly rasped whisper. And this happens in every damn song. Halford, Bruce Dickinson, and even Paul Di’Anno, the singers of the original versions of these songs, all had a vitality, versatility and strength to their voices and performance when these songs were written. Barnes has a guttural rasp, and that’s it, hence the question “why?”

By the time “Never Satisfied” comes along, there is a great urge building to shout at the speakers for Barnes just to shut the fuck up and let the rest of the band carry on as an instrumental group. If he had, the whole album would have been a lot better. True, it wouldn’t have been Six Feet Under, but in this day and age does anyone still really care?

Barnes struggles to spit out the verses of “Murders In The Rue Morgue” without tripping over his own tongue. The crunching intro “Prowler” is impressive, but then Barnes fucks it up again, by opening his stupid gargling mouth. “The Evil That Men Do” is just embarrassing.

Despite the best efforts of the backing musicians, this is just a fuck-awful rip off. It is the lazy dribblings of a dope fiend who has wrecked both voice and mind, and wants us to fund his habit.