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 Not
too sure if there's ever been a Maiden tribute album so far. Not
everyone'd be brave enuff with the requisite moral fibre to try and nail
these masterworks of metal mayhem and gattling gun guitar strafings. Or
desperate enuff on the showing of this collection of mainly semi-retired
fretboard hackers...whatever, tho, it IS almost uniformly
fantabulous, and the overall calibre of songwriting throughout the Irons
reign would baffle Bach, even if just for a few ticks. Not hard really
when they stay true to the originals, but why alter perfection? Why the
fuck not? Me, I'm still waiting for a psychobilly rendition of 'Aces
High'. C'mon, it's just begging for Demented Are Go or OS Catalepticos
to shoot it down....or worse.
Anyway old General Harry shouldn't be too pissed at this when he gives the
troops a once over on the parade ground at Pacific Palisades or wherever,
even Dee Sniders straining on 'Wasted Years' should be overlooked,
and actually commended for valour as he does inflect more pathos and
reflective feel, into it than Dickinson's panto screeching, especially as
when the original was recorded he'd rather have been fencing, flying or
'writing'. Old self-mythologizing villain, the Nick Cotton-esque desperado
Paul Di'Anno plays for the pipe on 'Wrathchild', still a great song
that he obviously identifies with, but I'd rather have had 'Remember
Tomorrow' given the production it deserves. 'The Trooper' is
tackled by possibly the only men able to take this 'un over the top and
not get cut down on their own wire...yup, it's those dastardly Motorhead
barstads Lemmy & Campbell...Lemmy's howitzer firing breath actually
benefiting the classic tale of an infantry mans death waddle in the
Crimea.
Of course, with an album featuring Dio man Craig Goldie, Dokken's George
Lynch and Paul Gilbert from Racer X, guitar pyrotechnics (or prattling, if
you will) is to the fore. Yuss, I know, Maiden did it anyway but sometimes
these chaps kinda think it gives them reason to go just that touch too
much in the far-zone, where Maiden, especially Mr Murray, played far
tastier solos than their stage-wear would otherwise indicate, as we all
know. One thing with your hair, dudes, another on classic metal. Stand up
(no surprises here, surely) Nuno Bettencourt who, to paraphrase Def
Leppard, pursues some bludgeon widdle-ola on 'Aces High' like the eager
new recruit forgetting to watch his wing in the heat of the dog-fight the
songs warning of. D'oh. Go to the back of the benefit queue, or be a
session muso or something. Whatever you do, bugger off. (Yes, old
prejudices from rock club days die hard...get the funk out, indeed, damn
him!). It also, quite criminally, guv, lacks the spiraling dive-bombing
trem-arm trickery that soundtracks a Spitfires plummet to the green and
desecrated land. Similarly on '2 Minutes To Midnight' and 'The
Evil That Men Do', tho the latter has a much needed heaviness that the
band swapped for synths on the '7th Son' record.
Best is the 'Holy Smoke' meets Skynyrd ballad 'Fear Of The Dark'
intoned by Testament's Chuck Billy, and surprisingly the always slight 'Flight
Of Icarus' fares better, falling between the way too slow, insipid
watery soup version from the 'Piece Of Mind' album, sunning itself
instead, even for just an instant, in the reflected glow of the prime rib
sizzler on the 'Live After Death' set.
Of course, your willingness to inflict this upon yourselves will depend on
your loving or loathing of Maiden. But as an album in itself it should
appeal to more than Maiden completists, tho it coulda done with
a few more tunes in there, like 'Drifter' and 'Prowler'
perhaps. Even if you're a passing rock / metal fan with a casual interest
in our East End ear
splitters it's worth a few bob of your Brown Ale fund. In the meantime n'
by all means, do contact your local psychobilly heroes and press 'em to do
'Aces High'.
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