Up the Irons

Douglas Wolk wrote an outstanding book on the explosive James Brown performance captured on the Live at the Apollo record. As I read Wolk's book, his depiction of hardest working man in show-business and the Famous Flames tearing up the Apollo at the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis made me wonder if that 1962 show in Harlem had been as exciting as the Iron Maiden show I saw that week.


Iron Maiden's performances are legendarily awesome, but none of the DVDs or live albums that I've amassed could prepare me for such a spectacle. At the sounds of Winston Churchill's 'We Shall Fight on the Beaches' speech that kicks off the 1985 live album Live After Death, five Englishmen far older than their energy suggested raced out onto all sides of the Izod Center's gigantic stage. They wasted nary a second as the opening chords of 'Aces High' spilled out over the PA, and metal's own Winston Churchill, Bruce Dickinson, dramatically wailed out the ode to British fighter pilots. Guitar hero Adrian Smith, leading original member Dave Murray and relative (early '90s) newbie Janick Gers, ended 'Aces High' by segueing into the anthemic '2 Minutes to Midnight' with even greater precision and seamlessness than he did on Live After Death or Powerslave. I had already received more than my money's worth.

On paper, it would be easy to label Maiden a nostalgia act, a band that relies on their older material to bring in an audience while releasing more or less irrelevant music over the past several years. Their 2008 tour is subtitled 'Somewhere Back in Time' (after their '80s release Somewhere in Time), and the band advertised this tour as featuring only prime material from the 1980s (perhaps in reaction to their ill-received last tour, in which they played their newest album front-to-back). Anyone who's seen KISS in concert lately knows that nostalgia acts can put on an awesome show, but I'm hesitant to use the term to describe Maiden. I really can't believe that they were as sensational in their prime songwriting years as they were when I saw them--with copious great songs to cherry pick from, decades of performing experience behind them, and expert-level proficiency that's only improved in every band member, it's a safe bet that Iron Maiden are as astoundingly incredible as they've ever been onstage.

Bruce Dickinson possesses some of the greatest vocals in rock music history, belting out 'Run to the Hills' and 'Wasted Years' with range and vigor that even his younger self lacked. He also indulged his tremendous ego with enough costume changes to rival Freddie Mercury, although never enough to distract from the show's high-paced intensity. Dickinson's most memorable garb was probably a feathered, wooden mask that he donned for 'Powerslave' which covered a great deal of his frame and somehow didn't muffle any of his vocals. Bounding around effortlessly and never missing a chance to engage the Jersey crowd ("Meadowlaaaaands!!"), he made a great case for being the most gifted metal frontman ever.


The considerable stage props, whether the massive Powerslave-era backdrop, a waving Union Jack flag, or the monster-sized "Eddie" that graced the stage during 'Iron Maiden,' were all second fiddle to Maiden's music, with only the best of their top-notch tunes represented in the setlist. Not that there weren't surprises--the band unleashed '90s standout 'Fear of the Dark' late in the set, and the lesser-known 'Heaven Can Wait' was one of the night's best screamalongs, concluding with a stage-full of extremely lucky Maiden fans (where did you sign up??) taking the stage for the final chorus. But the greatest surprise came when Dickinson introduced a song about "a bird." I wondered if we were in for 'Where Eagles Dare,' but Maiden then dusted off their magnificent, 14-minute retelling of Rime of the Ancient Mariner and taught a lesson in slaying albatrosses that would have awed Samuel Taylor Coleridge. High school literature teachers should be so compelling.

Of course, there was the parade of rock classics that are burned into any metalhead's consciousness--the intentionally uproarious 'Can I Play with Madness' and the thrashing 'The Trooper' received the over-the-top guitar solos and drum fills that they deserved, and the nearly-definitive 'The Number of the Beast' brought on a sea of pyrotechnics during its matchless "6...6-6!" chorus. The latter's infamous high-pitched scream has probably wrecked more metal voices than any note in history, but not only can Dickinson hit it like the unholy spawn of Freddie Mercury and Roger Daltrey, he can make the earth erupt with flame geysers whenever he sings it.



Closing with the chilling gallows pole tale 'Hallowed be thy Name,' the mighty forces of Iron Maiden took their bows and promised to be back in the New York City area in June. I don't think I could wait any longer.

Genghis Ah Um

The newest young headbangers to get caught up in the hype machine are Genghis Tron. Unlike death-metalers Job for a Cowboy, the last overpromoted band I reviewed, Genghis Tron offer a distinct sound, original ideas and a cool name. On Board Up the House, the band's Relapse debut, it's clear that the talented trio's potential is in their sights, if not quite in their grasp.


It'd be an understatement to call Genghis Tron's sound unique, being as they're the only metal band I know of without a bassist or a real drummer (drum machine users like Devon Townsend and Ministry don't count--they employ real kits live). They're one of the only metal bands that can use keyboards and synthesizers without sounding lame, and those electronics dominate Board Up the House, incorporating industrial and prog influences into songs hardcore enough to compete with Converge (whose Kurt Ballou produced the record). Guitarist/drum machinist Hamilton Jordon recently named Tool's Ænima and NIN's The Downward Spiral as his two favorite albums, and his band evokes the former on the ambient doom epic 'I Won't Come Back Alive' and the latter on the seething electro-interlude 'The Whips,' but Genghis Tron still have very few precedents. You may not hear a more original metal record this year.

Yet Board Up the House is more admirable than interesting. Granted, the band's textures and arrangements make the songs on Board Up the House more intriguing than, say, a predictably consistent Killswitch Engage record, but they don't have enough memorable hooks or jaw-dropping lyrics to push themselves into the metal elite. There's nothing terrible on Board Up the House, and it all sounds good while it's playing, but their sonic inventiveness leaves a stronger impression than the actual songs. Board Up the House is the work of a band finding its voice, on the verge of breaking free from the shadow of Tool but not yet ready for the spotlight. Also, I'm very impressed that Jordan and keyboardist Michael Sochynsky can handle their instruments while manning drum machines on stage, but I'd really like to hear what heights a real live drummer like Danny Carey or (lest my cup runneth over) Igor Cavalera could push them to.

Like the film that shares their surname, Genghis Tron are more innovative and exciting than they are superior. But the talent is clearly there, and the exhilarating, Neurosis-channeling closer 'Ergot (Relief)' is nothing short of stunning, leaving a great final impression and further indicating the band's good future. With Board Up the House, Genghis Tron have brought new ideas to the table, and I expect that they'll soon know what to do with them.



On a note unrelated to the music, I'm very glad that the members of Genghis Tron are OK after their bus crashed in Ohio this week. I'm hoping that they'll get a new van in time to continue their tour with Converge, Baroness and the Red Chord, which looks like one of the best spring metal tours in the states right now.

Some cool stuff

I can't think of a better hard rock artist to cover a Disney song than Andrew W.K., and I can't think of a better song for him to cover than the Mickey Mouse Club theme.

Chad Bowar of About.com has a pretty unimpeachable list of top 20 metal albums of the '90s.

International Political Economy Zone has a great blogpost on 'Foreclosure of a Dream.'

If you watch the teaser for the new Gojira CD, make sure you're wearing an extra pair of socks.



Happy St. Patrick's Day! Listen to the Pogues.

Nick Cave is a Metal God

Nick Cave is an honorary metal artist. Indie purists may scoff at the thought, but his badass attitude, theatrical performances, and much of his music are more metal than most of what you'd see on Headbanger's Ball. It is no wonder he's so revered in the metal community.


Like Johnny Cash or Tom Waits, the energy that Nick Cave brings to his music strikes a chord with music devotees who like their music dark, aggressive and hard-boiled. Intentionally or not, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' influence can be seen a slew of metal artists, from the violent, spontaneous stage shows of the Dillinger Escape Plan to Slipknot's employment of multiple percussionists to Dave Mustaine's talk/scream vocals. Countless noise rockers (including Cave's newest band, Grinderman) are indebted to his work with the Birthday Party, and as with most great metal acts, Cave emits a perfect blend of bleakness and campiness. Metallica's cover of 'Loverman' is not Hetfield & co.'s finest moment, but it makes a good case that the biggest metal band of all time (who also collaborated with Cave's cohort, Marianne Faithfull) has more in common with Nick Cave than bands like Iron Maiden or KISS.

Another metal aspect of Nick Cave is that his live performances are relentlessly captivating and over the top. His only US performance this year, a March 6 date at Terminal 5, overcame the venue's heinously stifling acoustics and the performance's slot at this year's Plug Awards (an indie music-based, somehow even less relevant version of the grammys) to be one of the best recent NYC-area shows in memory.

Dressed to the nines and sporting a fu manchu, Cave kicked off the evening with the verbose title track of his new album with the Bad Seeds, Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!. Cave spliced the track's catchy, blunt chorus with bizarre, long-winded monologues that re-imagined the Bible parable as a Re-Animator-era horror story. "I mean, he never asked to be raised from the tomb," mugged Cave, recalling both a deranged preacher and a camp-fire storyteller. "No one ever actually asked him to forsake his dreams!" Scary, goofy, epic and biblical, it may be as close to the definitive sound of Nick Cave as he's come thus far, and the piping church organ, restless percussion and background chants provided by the Bad Seeds overwhelmed the venue's usual echo flawlessly.


The Bad Seeds are as muscular as any backup band this side of Crazy Horse, and it would take a frontman of Cave's caliber to not get buried by the wall of percussion provided by Jim Sclavunos and Thomas Wydler, or the heavily distorted guitars and keyboards that Mick Harvey, James Johnston and Cave himself alternated between. The Bad Seeds are unquestionably one of the greatest-sounding bands in rock, enhancing Cave's compositions with creaky old organs, violent-sounding fiddles and enough sources of percussion to make the listener dizzy. The band also howled, chanted and raved along with Cave, and the vocalist's fierce tales of depravity contrasted seamlessly with the Bad Seeds' precision and stoicism.

As proven on his last two studio albums, the 2-disc Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus and the Grinderman side project, Cave's songwriting is as strong as it's ever been, and Dig, Lazarus, Dig!! is no exception. Most of the set focused on new material, including the instant 'Lie Down Here (and Be My Girl),' the haunting, bare-bones 'Night of the Lotus Eaters' and the purely mesmerizing 'Albert Goes West.' 'We Call Upon the Author to Explain' offered a brilliant, VU-resembling organ riff and abrupt interlude to complement Cave's stream-of-consciousness discourse, which played somewhat like an evil twin to his earlier 'There She Goes, My Beautiful World.' Not to ignore the 'hits,' Cave dug out the cinematic 'Red Right Hand' and a particularly forceful 'Tupelo,' Cave's nightmarish tribute the King and his stillborn brother Jesse.

Ending his first set with his '90s update of 'Stagger Lee,' Cave engaged the crowd while acting out the song's characters as he described them. Depicting murders as harrowing/cartoonish as anything conceived by the Wu-Tang Clan, Cave flailed his arms and legs and seemed on the verge of killing people in the front row. Other than Iggy Pop, no elder statesman of rock is so frightfully animated, and the sight of one of music's most literary, poetic figures frothing at the mouth is one that no music fan should pass on.

Encoring with the subtly moving 'More News from Nowhere,' Cave and the Bad Seeds successfully calmed the mood before sending us on our way. "It's getting strange in here," crooned Cave, master of the understatement. "It gets stranger every year." There's really nothing normal about a Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds show, and really no reason why you should miss a chance to see them.