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~ Drinking out of the hose since 2004 ~ Lounging on the couch since 2007 ~
Welcome to the home of our resident drunken ass clown. Here you will find nothing of substance, and nothing that makes sense. We pay him in dog biscuits and Jack Daniels, so you get what you pay for. Heat? Kitchen? No? Well, get the fuck out.
Iron Maiden
A Matter of Life and Death
Score: 4/5
Yee-haaaaaahhh! Buckle up, my little broncos, and Uncle Beppo will ride you until dawn. But not in a gay way. It’s here, it’s here, it’s finally fucking here! (Yes, I am panting like a fucking Labrador going through Alpo withdrawal – shut up.)
Even though I am the master of all and everything, I am always humbled in the presence of Iron Maiden. I worship Iron Maiden! Up the irons! Maiden! Maiden! Maaaaiiiideeeen! Ever since I was little I have prayed at the altar of Maiden. Literally. I had a little table with black candles and gnarly Eddie figurines made out of play-doh and everything. Best band in the world, period (along with King Diamond, of course.)
Let’s pray together.
Oh, mighty Maiden of Iron
We are not worthy of thine grace
Except while you had that fucking hobo
Singing all those lame ass days
Oh, glorious saints of Eddie
Up in your monstrous Heaven
We are all your most faithful servants
Even though we didn’t buy Virtual XI
I know, of course (since I am me), that quality wise they have never managed to create any masterpieces after “7th Son”, but hey, they are old farts now – broken and bent with bad breaths and failing sexual organs. We can’t expect too much. Still, on some later albums they glimmered like shooting stars. A couple of tunes from “Fear of the Dark” were OK, a few pearls from “Brave New World” and the epic tracks from “Dance of Death”. Put all those tracks together and you have ONE really fucking good post-7th Son album. The rest? Meh. It’s mostly all shite, mate.
So now we have the 14th studio album from Maiden here. Did I say yaa-hee already? I didn’t want to review it as soon as it came out, since I wanted to see how it grew on me. Would it grow like mold on my brain, or like a 10 inch boner in my pants? Yeah, right… More like mold on my fucking dick these days. I haven’t gotten laid in, I don’t know… what year is it? I was fondled by Michael Jackson at a birthday party once, does that count?
“A Matter of Life and Death” is the title, even though there is no track named that. I have a feeling they tried to be clever, intertwining the name of their best live album, “Live after Death”, with the fact that this whole thing was recorded mostly live in the studio, not even mastered properly at the end – all to make it recreate the feeling of that “live vibe”. In theory, of course. I don’t know how many concerts you guys have been to, but most bands fucking suck live, and the ones that don’t, still never sound as good as on album. The fucking point with the studio is that you can redo the takes on that crappy riff, the missed notes, the off beats and the crap singing. Why in the hell of Judas Iscariot the Salmon Fucker would I want to hear a band sound like shit on a studio album for? “It’s almost LIVE, Beppo!” you cry with eyes filling up with gay tears. No, idiot. It’s not live. Were you there? Did you get a t-shirt? No, didn’t think so. Live albums are only curiosa for the fans that went to that show, and for the others dumbasses that wish they had. When it comes to studio albums I expect sharp instrumental and vocal executions, without faults and flaws, with a big fucking fat sound that kicks my clown ass all over the place. I don’t want to hear some tinny shit with exhausted vocals and some gay-ass off- beat “live vibe”. Check out the beginning of “The Pilgrim” to see what I mean, ye dumbasses of little faith. If I wanted live, I’d go to a strip bar and get hammered.
Anyway… So, needless to say this album suffers from the usual Horrible Trademark Maiden Production. What the hell are you gonna do? Kevin Shirley just twists the knobs Steve Harris points at, so fuck them. We are used to this crap sound by now. (Never mind that tiny little bands like Masterplan and Angra can deliver the goods without going for some shitty live vibe.) Now that we have established that, let’s move on to the songs.
For the most part, the songs on here kick ass. Of course, inevitably, you will be comparing the songs to glories past, and in some cases you would be right to do so. The great epic “For the Greater Good of God” sounds pretty much like a less melodic version of “The Clairvoyant” with some cool guitar lines thrown in for good measure. “The Pilgrim” has that fast paced “Aces High / 2 Minutes to Midnight” feeling to it, with some typically Oriental/Egyptian “Powerslave” melodies oozing all over the place, but without ever hitting that level of grandeur, of course. “Brighter than a Thousand Suns” sounds like something left over from one of Bruce’s solo albums with its static riff (still a great tune, though) and “The Longest Day” has that “Clansman / Fear of the Dark” sing along epic quality to it. “Out of the Shadows” sounds like one of those cool and creepy ballad-like songs they did back in the days of the mighty “Killers”.
Some of the other songs, like “Lord of Light”, “These Colors Don’t Run” and “The Legacy” have those superb timelessly progressive Maiden traits that could compete with classics from any Maiden album, from any era, since they are ever changing and ever evolving, like drag queen chameleons at a Victoria's Secret fashion show. Even the first so motherfuckingly annoying “The Reincarnation of Benjamin Breeg” sounds better after the hundredth listen, so I forgive them for the rather poppy approach and the fact that it sounds like Roy Z wrote it for Bruce back in the day of those early solo releases.
The only song I truly skip like a flat rock here is “Different World”. Not because it sucks or anything, but because it offers nothing new. It sounds like every other single grave filler track on the last two Maiden releases, with a really crappy and uncharacteristic Maiden chorus. Maybe I’ll change my mind after the thousandth listen. Maybe not.
This album is also the first album where you can actually hear, and make sense of, all three guitarists as separate players. I always thought it was a pussy-move to not have the balls to fire that old sponge-faced bastard when Adrian came back. “No, we’re gonna have three guitarists!” Gay Nigger, please. Dream Theater and Led Zeppelin have ONE guitarist, and they did just fine. Having three guitarists is like having a drummer who sings – it’s just very lame. However, just to prove the old Beppster wrong (thanks), they all fill a function here, and some of the solos are fucking ripping – not “Somewhere in Time”-ripping, but very good nonetheless! I am grinning like a very special child indeed here to see Adrian Smith contributing more to the sound, as I always felt he is the best songwriter of the bunch, especially together with Dickinson.
I am also happy to notice that the sloppy and wild Harris gallops are taking a backseat to more varied playing. I always thought his fucking bass sounded like some fat dude who swallowed a whistle, burping out a mess of clunky notes while strapped to the back of a stampeding horse. It’s not as messy on this album. Good for him. Maybe they cut off a few of his fingers. Nicko McBrain performs with his usual over-compensating style, trying to hit every drum in his kit at least a few times in each beat. Clive Burr was the master of progressive simplicity. I miss that straight drive sometimes in today’s Maiden, but what the fuck are you gonna do? You can’t even punch Nicko in the nose. He’s immune to facial violence.
OK, so what, except for the “live vibe” is not good on this album? Easy, kids. It’s Bruce. He fucking sucks. He used to be my favorite singer in metal, but on here he sounds exactly as strained and exhausted as he has done on recent live offerings, struggling to suck air into his old shriveled lungs in between lame attempts at hitting those high notes. It truly pisses me off how fucking bad he sounds on here. Having seen Maiden and Bruce live, in both band and solo situations, I always knew he sounds like shit in half the songs – and on this album he sounds like that on every single track. He has also lost that menacing and dramatic “normal voice” quality that made songs like “Number of the Beast”, “Children of the Damned” and even “Fear of the Dark” great. He seems to only have two voice modes these days; the autistic banshee wailing with a cork in his throat and the out of breath staccato verse singing. Give me a fucking break. Have some chamomile tea and do another take. Again, that’s what the fucking studio is there for. Cheat, dammit! Every damn high note is the very same one, over and over. His vibrato is non-existent. Forget about it. It has gone to a farm upstate.
All in all, still the best Maiden album since 7th Son, and a solid purchase for any type of Maiden fan; both for kids from the gay goth generation, like you, or old and smart fans like me. There are things they could have done better (production and Bruce’s voice) and there are things they have vastly improved since later releases (song writing and arrangements), and in the end I still definitely recommend it. It’s like snorting a bottle of Febreeze after the swamp-ass air of the uneven “Brave new World” and the hubris-addled and failing “Dance of Death”.
Afterthought: Is it just me or is Eddie kinda lame these days? Back in the day he was a killer, a punk, an Egyptian god, a basket case, a robot from the future, a demon from hell, the master of the fucking Devil. Lately he is a face in the sky, a poorly rendered ghost at a Gay Pride Masquerade Ball, and a guy on a tank. Does Derek Riggs have Eddie’s balls in a glass jar on his night stand? These new artists are not getting it. I can’t see kids of today doodling this new fag monster on their History books. (Mother Beppo had a great Beppo-drawing of Eddie on the fridge – I had painted him sticking his dick into a guillotine, cackling like a mad man as he let the blade fall. Great stuff.)
Carry on.
By Beppo
