Free, "All Right Now"

Having spent two summers and my senior year of college working at classic rock radio stations, I must have heard Free's "All Right Now" hundreds of times, thousands if we're counting bumpers. And yet, long after I've tired of "Stairway to Heaven" and "Free Bird," I'll happily sit through "All Right Now."



I'm still hearing new things in it. Two years ago, I heard an organist play it at a Cubs game and realized the verses have the same melody as "Footloose" (which "All Right Now" predates by 14 years).



It's the only Free song I know, and I've never felt inclined to seek out any others. I'm assuming they're good, and maybe someday I'll find out. But as of now it feels like the complete encapsulation of a band. Maybe Free themselves realized this, as Paul Rodgers saved nearly of his hits for Bad Company. You've heard the riff in countless other songs, but never played like this, and you might forget which hook goes with it the first dozen or so times it turns up on your FM. But once you get there, you'll stick around for Andy Fraser's moment of rock immortality. The bubbling bass line that takes over the bridge right around 2:20 is a pioneer moment of a bassist taking the lead in a great rock song, and still one of the only rock bass solos that doesn't disappoint or wear out its welcome. Now that we've heard Steve Harris, Geddy Lee, Cliff Burton, Sting, Flea and more it doesn't sound so unusual, and yet no less perfect.

Iron Maiden, "The Ides of March"

Contrarians will ever be telling you that Iron Maiden was at their best in the Paul Di'Anno era, argument which deserves about as much ground as those from listeners who've convinced themselves that Sammy Hagar was Van Halen's best frontman. However, Steve Harris' songwriting prowess and the band's chops were already clear on the first two records, both of which have enough great moments to deserve Eddie on the cover.

Killers, the band's second record, is the only one with more than one instrumetal (sic), "Genghis Khan" and "The Ides of March." The latter is a war march-styled anthem that kicks off the album, alerting the world to a band that was about to slaughter and take over (but not betray) the metal landscape. It's more solo-heavy than Maiden's usual fare--maybe they were already eager to get Di'Anno out of them. But had they kept him on, or even if they'd broken up, songs like this would have secured their spot in metal history.

Iron Maiden, "Seventh Son of a Seventh Son"

Many listeners probably assumed that the title track from Iron Maiden's Seventh Son of a Seventh Son was referring to Willie Dixon's proto-rock classic, or maybe the Seven Deadly Sins. But, as a sea of hype for the Ender's Game movie has reminded me, "Seventh Son of a Seventh Son" was inspired by an Orson Scott Card novel.



Card's Alvin Maker series is not as popular as his Ender series, but it exemplifies his knack for combining folklore and fantasy. It's no wonder that Steve Harris, one of metal's most literary-minded songwriters, took to Seventh Son, Card's book about a boy who hangs out with William Blake. The lyrics to "Seventh Son of a Seventh Son" aren't going to get anyone out of a book report, but along with the music they'll quench your sci fi/fantasy metal needs.

Judas Priest, "Painkiller"

The sharpest point that I ever heard in the Priest vs. Maiden debate is that Judas Priest are more of a guitarist's band, whereas Iron Maiden are more of a bassist's band. Regardless of which side you fall on, this makes perfect sense. For all of their bombast, Maiden's solos are relatively succinct, and songwriter Steve Harris's basslines are right up there with Bruce Dickinson in the mix. Judas Priest practically founded metal's now-ubiquitous twin axe attack. It's no surprise that Lemmy prefers Iron Maiden, or that Kerry King champions Priest.



Nowhere are those lightning guitars better heard than in the title track to Painkiller. "Painkiller" doesn't just sound heavy for 1990, or for guys pushing 40. Listening today, in 2013, "Painkiller" is downright brutal, far nastier than any of the power metal it supposedly inspired. Drummer Scott Travis, making his first-ever appearance on a Priest record, wastes no time in implementing blast beats into the Priest formula, and it works shockingly well. Tipton and Downing's solos are so frenetic that even guitar wizard Chuck Schuldiner tried something completely different when he covered "Painkiller" on Death's final album. Rob Halford's frequency-pushing vocals are at an all-time high, perhaps acknowledging that he can go further now to complement his band's flourishing energy. Your parents might have even tolerated "Living After Midnight," but there was no way that they were getting down to this.

You'll hear about how Painkiller was Judas Priest's comeback, a response to two lackluster albums (Turbo and Ram it Down) and a sharply-delivered boot to a world of Poisons and Warrants.
But 1990 was an incredible year for metal. Painkiller was up against Rust in Peace, Seasons in the Abyss and Cowboys from Hell, all Album of the Decade candidates. More than a nail in the glam metal coffin, Painkiller was a gauntlet to the thrash and death metal legions, and an example of how Judas Priest could make a melody sound even meaner than a death growl. Listen to what Amon Amarth did with a similar main riff 18 years later--it completely rocks, but it still doesn't sting the same way.



To paraphrase Ornette Coleman, this is the shape of metal to come.

Iron Maiden at the Prudential Center

Mayhem Fest? Forget it. Summer Slaughter? Nice try. You will not see a better show--club, park, arena, stadium or basement, than the one that Iron Maiden and Alice Cooper took to the Prudential Center last Monday.



Long lauded as one of the finest live acts in metal, Maiden only seem to get better as Nicko McBrain turns 60. Someone should hire the whole band as anti-drug spokesmen. Each of the bandmates turned in athletic performances that shamed anything Aerosmith, Van Halen, Black Sabbath or Judas Priest can pull off, to say nothing of nearly all artists young enough to be Steve Harris' children. Maiden's chops are nonpareil, and their stage set, a refinement of their 1989 Seventh Son of a Seventh Son tour spectacle, speaks volumes for the artistry of high-budget rock shows.

Of course there was also risk, which arrived in the form of one of rock music's most legendarily charismatic frontmen opening the show. The irreplaceable Cooper took the first set, packing all the best elements from the show he's spent his life perfecting into one ideal hour-long set. Little has changed about Alice since you last saw him, including the fact that no one plays theatrical shock-rock as well as he does. The swordplay, chambers, guillotine and Frankenstein's monster were all there, along with some staged routines with the road crew and a reliably hit-heavy setlist. His band, all of whom looked younger than Welcome to My Nightmare, indulged in the fun.

As a showman, Alice is refreshingly old school. More than a harbinger to Rob Zombie, he's a throwback to Screamin' Jay Hawkins, dead set on delivering the best show that music and Halloween props can give you. Closing with "School's Out," Cooper added the chorus to "Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2" to the finale. It clarified both his influence on Pink Floyd and the fact that he articulated school life better than Roger Waters.



Following Alice Cooper's act would be devastating anything less than the very best artists, but Maiden passed with flying Union Jacks. Entering to "Moonchild," the band embarked on a two-hour set of their best songs. "The Number of the Beast," "Wasted Years" and "2 Minutes to Midnight" are all pillars of metal, yet underappreciated by anyone who's never seen them performed by their sculptors.

Bruce Dickinson, arguably metal's greatest frontman to this day, egged the crowd on like a showbiz pro, taking a friendly jabs at our upcoming holiday (the one where we declared independecne from his country) between acing every note of his larynx-pushing vocals. Dave Murray, Adrian Smith and Janick Gers perpetually slung their guitars around their shoulders, racing up and down the stage set while joined by Eddie's likeness on a Sphinx, monumental statues and a zombie soldier. It was the kind of show that only a few bands can compete with, none of whom come close to Maiden's songcraft.

Iron Maiden tours seem to rotate between "classics" and "new songs" setlists, and with all respect to The Final Frontier, the band is best seen playing their best songs. In their compositional prime, Maiden's were as un-wanky as power metal gets, with relatively relaxed solos and only a few songs hitting the eight-minute mark. By re-enacting their Seventh Son tour with better proficiency and production values, Maiden blessed us with rarely-played tracks from the 1988 release alongside stompers like "Run to the Hills" and "The Trooper." Rules were bended to include '90s glories like "Fear of the Dark" and "Afraid to Shoot Strangers," lest you believe it was a nostalgia show.

After an encore that break wasn't long enough to find a bathroom, Maiden returned with "Aces High." Ending by appeasing Paul Di'Anno fans with "Running Free," the band bowed and left the dazed audience to find our way out while "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" played on the arena PA. If you only see one metal band, try Iron Maiden, and if you only see them once, now is the time.