The Iron Maidens : Releases >>

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In the live arena heavy metal can be implausibly powerful; it can rattle teeth from gums, set ears ringing like the clappers of doom and, when concocted by the gentlemen of Iron Maiden, virtually fracture your skull. Live After Death, meanwhile (a packed double disc set recorded during the band's extensive World Slavery jaunt of 1984 and 1985), is the awesome, irrefutable proof. Of course, expertly hewn slabs of solid rock carefully concocted in recording studios are all very well. But "The Number Of The Beast" and "Run To The Hills" were simply made to be blasted through 152,000 watts of PA system by five young men with undiluted testosterone pulsing through their bulging, whiplash veins. Bruce Dickinson's astounding lung capacity is frankly terrifying at times--he's certainly not a man you'd ever want to meet in a blow football tournament--while the band are virtually aflame. --Ian Fortnam

Number Of The Beast >>

Times might have changed, now--with the advent of new-metal acts like Korn--but throughout the 1980s, a damning generalisation held true: English heavy metal rocked, while the American variant--with a few notable exceptions--sucked. The difference went beyond aesthetics--the Yanks' avowed penchant for big hair and eyeliner--though that was certainly part of it: British metal was essentially working man's food, loosely descended from biker-meets and Northern pubs; whereas, in the States, it was an outgrowth of stadium-rock, which traditionally subordinated substance to spectacle. Plug-ugly, cartoonishly morbid, Iron Maiden were typical of the local effort: emphasising a driving, no-nonsense approach to the music. And it worked: among metal aficionados, this album ranks as one of the defining moments of the entire genre. Of the eight songs here--including Maiden classics like "Run To The Hills" and the title track--only "Gangland" falls flat, though it's immediately overshadowed by "Hallowed Be Thy Name," acknowledged by many as this band's apotheosis. --Andrew McGuire

Killers >>

Iron Maiden >>

This opening sonic salvo from Steve Harris's East End stalwarts pretty much defined the late 1970's post-punk rebirth of rock traditionalism known as the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal. Featuring the strident cockney roar of the band's original lead vocalist Paul Di'Anno, Iron Maiden capitalised on the band's enormous grass-roots live following by storming immediately into the upper reaches of the album chart. A perfect balance of the irresistibly catchy ("Running Free"), the intricately epic ("Phantom Of The Opera") and the roguishly profane ("Charlotte The Harlot"), it's an assured debut, superficially marred by somewhat pedestrian production values. Newly enhanced with the addition of video clips and assorted other multimedia goodies, Iron Maiden--specifically the blazing, fretboard ferocity of its closing title track--is an utterly essential element of any self-respecting metal-head's record collection. Furious, whiplash headbanging is not so much recommended as completely unavoidable. --Ian Fortnam

Dance of Death >>

The release of Dance of Death, Iron Maiden's 13th studio album, comes at a most fortuitous time. Fortuitous for them, because in 2003--after years of struggle--rock has fought its way back to the top of the UK charts (thanks, in large part, to the success of The Darkness). Fortuitous for us, because Dance of Death ably demonstrates why, amongst the Monsters of Rock pantheon, Iron Maiden are the Godzilla.

With singer Bruce Dickenson and guitarist Adrian Smith now firmly re-entrenched after returning for their previous album, Brave New World, Iron Maiden seem newly reinvigorated. Dance of Death sounds like classic Maiden--in particular Seventh Son of a Seventh Son--right down to the over-the-top production. It kicks off at breakneck speed with first single "Wildest Dreams", builds to a crescendo by track three (the anthemic "No More Lies"), and for the most part, maintains this pace throughout the album, pausing only briefly for the slow build of the title track or the orchestra-laden, battlefield epic "Paschendale". Dickinson's overwrought vocals add gravity to apocalyptic lyrics that would descend into irony or outright silliness at the hands of a lesser band (who else could get away with the sound effect of a hawk's cry in the middle of a song?). These are serious men playing serious music, and after more than two decades, Iron Maiden can still teach the big-shorted yoof a thing or two about rock. With Dance of Death, Iron Maiden aren't just back, they're back on top. --Robert Burrow

Powerslave >>

It's way too easy to write off Iron Maiden as the preserve of maladjusted boys with fluffy, budding moustaches, stuck in the murk of the British 1980s. They were preposterous, they were anachronistic--in utterly appropriate Spinal Tap terms--and their growth rate could not even be charted. But they really do rock, which, as ever, lets them off the hook. Besides which, Powerslave is arguably the best Maiden album precisely because it's so bombastic and lugubrious; it achieves its effect with bludgeoning tactics. Obsessively fast and brutal riffing, interminable repetition and lyrics so epic and gruesome they're irresistible ("The body bags and little rags of children torn in two/And the jellied brains of those who remain, to put the finger right on you"). Grand and absurd, it's also pretty brilliant. --Taylor Parkes

Somewhere in Time >>

Dernier album avant le passage à vide, Somewhere In Time n'a pas l'éclat de Powerslave, son prédécesseur (Live After Death, qui s'est intercalé entre eux, étant naturellement hors concours, non seulement parce que c'est un live, mais aussi parce qu'Iron Maiden, bête de scène par excellence, s'y montra particulièrement efficace). Pourtant, il se vendra remarquablement bien, Iron Maiden étant alors au faîte de sa popularité. Après les pyramides d'Égypte sur Powerslave, Eddie, le mort-vivant dont l'effigie orne toutes les pochettes du groupe, se retrouve plongé dans un univers futuriste à la Blade Runner et ceci n'est pas sans incidence sur son contenu. Prenant sans doute au mot les critiques qui lui avaient reproché de s'en tenir à la formule bien rodée qui avait fait son succès, Iron Maiden a placé Somewhere In Time sous le signe de l'innovation : les guitares-synthés font ainsi leur apparition, sur disque comme sur scène, aux côtés des bonnes vieilles guitares électriques. Plus mélodiques et moins heavy, les compos de Somewhere In Time ont ouvert une brèche dans l'édifice Maiden et Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son, disque souvent qualifié de "progressif", s'y engouffrera tête baissée. --Hervé SK Guégano

Different World >>

Virtual Xi >>

Virtual XI was Iron Maiden's second album with singer Blaze Bayley and was a marked improvement on his 1995 debut, The X Factor. Bringing with him some of the earthiness and street-wisdom of his former outfit, Wolfsbane, Bayley now injected the sound with an invigorating punkiness missing since the departure of original vocalist Paul DiAnno. Yet, sharing his predecessor Bruce Dickinson's grandiloquence and sense of high romance, he also managed (with the likes of "The Angel And The Gambler" and "The Clansman") to continue the band's famous tradition of narrative lyrics. Noticeable also, in "Como Estais Amigos", was their purposeful chumminess with their fans. Musically, the progression was slighter, Iron Maiden still dealing in their well-known, complex and idiosyncratic riffology. But improved technology had made them harder, sharper, allowing them to enter their third decade with a reputation for uncompromising power that few rock bands enjoy in their first. --Dominic Wills