For some reason, the music industry press at large hates traditional heavy metal. Well, at least a pretty meaty swathe of it does. While journalistic elites, presumptuous publicists and those purporting to be purveyors of higher cultural standards thumb their noses at the bastard stepchild that is heavy music, the genre — or multi-headed collection of subgenres — continues to sell tickets, albums and streams, in spite of the mainstream machine’s disdain.
One subset of metal seems to stoke this ilk’s ire: hard rock and heavy metal from the 1980s. Now, there are some exceptions, bands like Metallica that possess a transcending X-factor that’s kept them above the fray, and bands that veer into punk territory such as Motörhead, who despite their indisputable trad-metal cred, have always claimed to be nothing more than a loud rock ‘n’ roll band. (Plus, having an iconic logo hasn’t hurt its universal appeal.) But when grunge and alternative music became en vogue in the ‘90s, metal merchants from the decade prior were often the subject of jeers and jokes. Some of these bands included Judas Priest, Scorpions, Saxon, Dio, latter-day Black Sabbath, a slew of pop-metal bands, and…dare I say, Iron Maiden. Perhaps it was the earnest, un-ironic delivery these bands applied to their craft, or the excess inherent in their epic album productions, stage sets and bravado that was offensive to the self-styled upper-crust of the music industry. It could’ve also been the fact that they often lacked subtlety — something critics never seemed to have an issue with when it came to punk rock — just got under their skin, as in, “How dare these musicians actually be enthusiastic about what they do.”
Ah well.
Either way, Iron Maiden during the later 1990s was a shell of its once mighty self. Front man Bruce Dickinson had left the band, and while it soldiered on valiantly with replacement Blaze Bayley, sales declined and it would seem that it would soon be relegated to the dustbins of decomposed legacy metal bands. Bruce, on the other hand, released an ambitious clutch of solo records that showcased the singer’s adventurous side, and would be seen by many as the collection of work that Iron Maiden should’ve been creating during these wayward times.
Bruce would soon rejoin Maiden around the turn of the century, which would help to kickstart a traditional metal renaissance that would see other vets such as Judas Priest, Black Sabbath with Dio, Scorpions and several others return to the world stage. Iron Maiden today is as strong as ever, releasing new material every few years and playing to packed stadiums. With all that, why does it still get marginalized by some in the press? While we may never know why there’s still a bias, one thing’s for certain, Bruce Dickinson is not slowing down anytime soon, and his recent solo effort, The Mandrake Project is real-time proof.
A renaissance man in his own right, the author, pilot, fencer and front man has released an inspired offering with The Mandrake Project, even if it doesn’t necessarily reinvent the wheel. Traversing Dickinson’s familiar musical toolbox, there are elements of Maiden-style riffage, prog, swaggering ’80s-style metal refrains and a touch of the fantastical. Opening track “Afterglow of Ragnarok” kicks things off in epic style, and features a slow-burning intro to set the mood before building into an ultra-heavy riff-fest that embellishes Bruce’s pointed delivery. The chorus is melodic, expansive and — like many other Bruce offerings — offers some light to the shade of the thick guitars and angry verse vocals. “Resurrection Men” starts off with a somber, spaghetti-western guitar refrain before morphing into a ’80s-style metal anthem. While Bruce’s vocals sound a tad bit strained in the verse, the song’s anthemic qualities elevate it nonetheless, and the combination of Tex-Mex and metal bombast makes for an interesting listening experience, especially when you toss in the slow, grinding mid-section.
Another interesting aspect of The Mandrake Project is its tendency to cast aside commercial conventions. Bruce clearly isn’t doing this for a quick cash grab. Instead, he gets medieval on us, literally, with lengthy, complex numbers that evoke cinematic landscapes. The majority of the tracks are over five minutes and Bruce doesn’t shy away from digging deep into his topics and musical adventurism as in the mammoth “Eternity Has Failed.” Clocking in at a whopping seven minutes, the song has it all — high drama, atmospherics and most of all, the almighty anthem. And that seems to be the unifying thread here. No matter how esoteric and commercially inaccessible Bruce can often get, he rarely fails to bring it back home with a fist-pumping chorus that adds a bit of calm — and familiarity — to the chaos.
The Mandrake Project (BMG) comes in several iterations: vinyl, CD, streaming, and deluxe box set with accompanying comic book. For collectors and completists, Dickinson has provided ample goodies to satiate the fanbase, while crafting a smart but very listenable offering. Will it satisfy Maiden fanatics? Most definitely. Will mainstream critics give it the time of day? Probably not. But it’s pretty safe to say that Bruce Dickinson and many of his traditional metal colleagues are well past caring at this point, and can rely on the tens of thousands of fans per night to help further the cause instead.
For questions, comments, or something you’d like to see, drop me a line. @JimKaz1
