What would Cypress Hill sound like with a touch less weed and a touch more spirituality, a little less shooting and a touch more lyrical intricacy, plus lots and lots of violin and mariachi guitar samples? Probably a lot like The Psycho Realm, which is probably why the LA underground group fell under the aegis of B-Real et al. The self-titled debut album from that same wacky label that brought you those kids from Haiti probably has such platinum dreams for this project, but alas, the grating pitch of the voices of absolutely everyone anywhere near this album (including B-Real-cum-Puffy on way too many tracks, and probably the engineer, the studio owner, and several bums outside) are five notches too far into irritation for the perfectly good tracks that linger beneath them.

To say that the production is monochromatic is an overstatement. The string samples on almost every song of the first side are so similar that DJs would have no problem mixing them into one seamless - boring - groove. On the second side the traditional screeches and squeals of what used to be called Soul Assassin production begin to remanifest itself, and the last song "La Conecta" borrows a page from a little album called The Score from the same label with Gambino-esque tales of betrayal and drama to a soundtrack suitable for dinner with Gotti.

Now, if someone is high, this music is comparable to the classics! As well, a listener who isn't paying attention to the lyrics and using this as background music will find it very pleasing, and any Cypress fans will camp out at the stores to pick it up. Without trying to commend Puffy-esque pop ambitions, this album is simply not accessible to all hip hop listeners. It is brooding and cliquish, best heard by high, young, Latino, male hip hop fans. Others may enjoy it, but somehow this probably won't break any sales records. A trip to the Psycho Realm is not for the squeamish, nor much of anyone else either.