Iron Maiden - Children of the Damned

I was very young and very sure of myself, but I was also confident in Steve's abilities. I remember, at my first gig, walking on stage and looking at him and thinking: "Here we go! We're going to become the biggest metal band on the planet!"

(Paul Di'Anno)

Iron Maiden were the band that, before and more than any other, brought the extreme sounds of heavy metal to the masses, starting out in small suburban pubs and ending up headlining the biggest stadiums alongside mainstream acts. They are among the leading figures of that great explosion of new bands known as the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal (NWOBHM), a musical movement born during a period of severe economic hardship in the United Kingdom, with sky-high levels of poverty and unemployment - the ideal breeding ground for a strong sense of youthful anger. Iron Maiden drew on the hard rock of UFO and Thin Lizzy, sharpened the violence of the sound of Judas Priest and Motorhead, dipped into the hard-prog complexities of Canada's Rush and borrowed the macabre themes of Black Sabbath's universe, transplanting them from the invented, bloodsoaked world of witches' sabbaths and satanic masses into a far more realistic and violent urban setting. Their outlook is that of the outcast, the drifter of the big city, the angry young man unaware of the real causes of his own unease, wandering aimlessly through a society that pushes him to the margins - themes broadly shared with contemporaries such as Sex Pistols or Clash, bands they were often compared to in their early days. Theirs is a fundamentally nihilistic creed, as is the case for much of the metal world.

The protagonists of their songs are, at least in the early years, drunks and prostitutes, the lowest rungs of a fossilized society that makes any kind of redemption impossible. The only possible outlet for exorcising the violence they feel victimized by is to recreate its brutality in music, the only available tool for redemption and emancipation. Despite such a degraded social backdrop, they managed, together with others, to lay the groundwork and set the coordinates for what would come to be called classic metal. Throughout their long career, the band's sound, for all its various evolutions, has always remained tied to the rock tradition of the Seventies (NWOBHM, hard rock, progressive), never giving in to the influence of the new extreme metal forms of the Eighties or Nineties (thrash, black, death, etc.).

The bands that have emerged in recent years speak to a new generation, representing for them what Zeppelin or Deep Purple represented for today's twenty-five-year-olds. Compared to the old bands, though, the new heavy rockers stand out for a much more pronounced aggression; live especially, they're truly "physically" aggressive.

(Steve Harris)

The Beginnings

Founded in 1975 by bass genius Steve Harris, a creative mastermind and an inexhaustible volcano of ideas, and raised in the midst of the punk explosion – from which they borrowed heavily in terms of aggression and, to a large extent, aesthetics – Iron Maiden intelligently and professionally built on the groundwork laid by Black Sabbath (darkness), U.F.O. (violence), Thin Lizzy (harmonized guitars), and Deep Purple (technique and alternating solos from two guitarists in place of guitar and keyboard), arriving at a synthesis of the leading NWOBHM bands (Saxon, Angel Witch, Samson, etc.), while not shying away – in the second half of the Eighties – from ambitious compositions bordering on progressive rock.

After some early line-up changes, the band settled into a stable formation with Paul Di'Anno (vocals), Dave Murray and Dennis Stratton (guitar), Steve Harris (bass) and Clive Burr (drums). Their earliest recordings were collected on The Soundhouse Tapes (1979), a brief three-track EP that turned them into a cult phenomenon on the underground scene.

Their fame grew rapidly, and their name appeared among the leading bands of the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal on the compilation Metal For Muthas (1980), with the tracks "Sanctuary" and "Wrathchild". In 1979 they played as support act for the much more famous Motorhead, where they caught the attention of Brian Shepard, EMI's director, who quickly grasped their potential. In February 1980 – just two months before their debut album – they released the single "Running Free", which entered the UK charts and, surprisingly, landed them a performance on Top Of The Pops. Meanwhile, Harris was struck by the artwork of artist Derek Riggs and had the brilliant idea of using his drawings as album covers. Eddie, a kind of emaciated zombie in filthy clothing (first album) and later an emblem of urban violence (second album), is the prototype of the outcast from derelict suburbs, and became the band's mascot, as well as no small factor in their success and instant recognizability.

The Albums With Paul Di'Anno

Their debut Iron Maiden (14 April 1980) revealed a band endowed with extraordinary technical skill and energy (the metal element), enriched by a visionary urban brutality (the punk element) worthy of Walter Hill's 1979 film "The Warriors". The sheer number of masterpiece tracks on it is staggering. "Prowler" kicks off with unprecedented violence and becomes the manifesto of the lone drifter. The solo lasts barely twenty seconds, but it's so fast and savage that it immediately signals something completely different from anything that came before.

"Remember Tomorrow" alternates slow arpeggios, poetic lyrics and furious guitar runs, and became one of their great classics. At the same time, the band conjured up gothic worlds they felt an affinity for: "Phantom Of The Opera" shows a compositional maturity and a complexity worthy of a progressive rock outfit. The tempos shift minute by minute, the song's structure keeps evolving, and speed is far from the only key element, becoming instead just one of many traits that make it a blueprint for anyone looking to approach metal.

"Transylvania" is their first instrumental track, a phenomenal visionary journey into a horror/gothic world that makes Transylvania feel more vivid than any image could. It's a paradox that confirms young Harris's genius: despite its breakneck speed, the track manages to evoke dark landscapes and literary texts. "Running Free" is the simplest track of the bunch, marked by a liberating feeling that's not easy to find in most metal bands. Di'Anno's thuggish voice is almost autobiographical as he screams the story of drunks, derelicts and outcasts ("we were spending the night in an L.A. jail"), and the headlong rush to nowhere symbolizes a need for freedom that has no means of authentically fulfilling itself. For metal, it was what "Born To Be Wild" had been for the hippies.

"Charlotte The Harlot" moves on from thugs to prostitutes, with crude, chauvinistic lyrics and machine-gun bursts of guitar. "Strange World" is wonderfully anomalous within the band's discography, slow and poetic like an attempt to escape reality, yet rich in craft and concreteness. "Iron Maiden" closes the album like a knife to the chest and became one of their immortal emblems. A perfect concentration of psychotic violence ("do you want to come into my room? I want to show you all my things, I want to see your blood, stand still and stare. Everywhere the Iron Maiden will get you, no matter how far") and schizophrenic rhythms, in which the band, name-checking itself, pre-emptively celebrates itself, as if foreshadowing a rosy future.

Dennis wasn't particularly close to heavy metal; Adrian Smith, who replaced him, besides being more experienced, is certainly the ideal guitarist to pair with Dave in Iron Maiden. The band gained a far stronger overall impact with his arrival.

(Steve Harris)

Their second album – Killers (1981) – was preceded by the release of three singles. "Sanctuary", with an incredibly powerful and provocative cover showing the monster Eddie killing a woman resembling British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher; "Women In Uniform" and "Invasion", decidedly in punk territory, in which the hated Thatcher returns in a police uniform with a baton and a fascist attitude, waiting to beat up a bizarre playboy version of Eddie.

Iron Maiden show what could be described as a guiding thread of theirs, an intolerance for power and a hymn to freedom that's formally hedonistic or pack-like, certainly not collective, but vaguely anti-totalitarian.

Eddie goes from filthy thug to killer, as shown on the iconic cover, wielding a bloody axe in the night of an imaginary futuristic metropolis. Meanwhile Adrian Smith (ex-Urchin) took Stratton's place: the sound gained in power, and the dualism between the two guitarists became essential (Murray more direct and violent, Smith more complex and intricate). The album is another classic of world heavy metal, reaching its absolute peak on the phenomenal title track, built around Di'Anno's scream following a memorable bass intro from Harris. The killer becomes the alter ego of a generation that answers institutionalized violence with an illogical, unmotivated violence ("My innocent victims are slaughtered by my rage"), an end in itself because it lacks the cultural tools to be processed ("You walk the subway, his eyes are burning, he's a step behind you").

The perfect stage for all this can only be the alienating metropolis, the depersonalized product of a society that already has a plan laid out for every young person (a poorly paid factory job and a rented studio flat), but that doesn't reckon with those who refuse to sign up for this "plan". The exorcism works, and the violence of the sound becomes a healthy release that the older generation struggles to understand. Iron Maiden's music, like all early metal, is a small but significant piece of the reaction to the contradictions of post-industrial English society. Not for much longer, though.

The album opens with the small gem "The Ides Of March", barely a minute and forty-six seconds long, built on powerful, martial rhythms. "Wrathchild", one of the album's finest tracks, follows the same path as "Killers", with a fast, savage bass attack and lyrics straight out of the punk mindset ("I was born of rage and greed, dominance and persecution, my mother was a queen, my father I never knew"). The band returns to the gothic references of the debut, this time drawing on Edgar Allan Poe's story "Murders In The Rue Morgue", with an atmospheric intro followed by a guitar onslaught. "Genghis Khan" is the new instrumental (sadly, they'll largely abandon this habit), similar to the earlier "Transylvania", with memorable interweaving guitar lines.

"Another Life" and "Innocent Exile" are two cloned tracks sharing the same poetics of the outcast rejected by society ("My life is so empty, nothing to live for, my mind's in complete confusion"). Paul Di'Anno's scream becomes catharsis, therapy for an unbearable malaise. "Purgatory" is the new "Charlot The Harlot", blisteringly fast, pure speed metal with a devastating rhythm section.

The arrival of Bruce Dickinson

Meanwhile, the band's success keeps growing exponentially, and they begin their first world tour, documented on the live album Maiden Japan (1981). But Iron Maiden are about to change radically: Paul Di'Anno, the street kid with alcohol and drug problems, the icon of the most authentic metal frontman, can't handle the shift from cult band playing small venues to a troupe of tireless professionals. The split becomes inevitable when Harris meets Bruce Dickinson, then singer of Samson, at the 1981 Reading Festival. The big bang is set: Dickinson's vocal qualities expand the band's potential on one hand, but on the other they mark the end of their most artistically vital period. Eddie is no longer the urban thug embodying the social struggles of his generation, but becomes a brand to be exported worldwide, trotted out on the most varied future cover art (from ancient Egypt to Dante's inferno, from war to science fiction to horror).

Part of the metal scene starts becoming institutionalized, while another part retreats into even harsher sounds – among the very first, for instance, Venom with "Welcome To Hell" (1981) – which will become the seeds from which the most extreme metal will sprout. Iron Maiden definitely belong to the first camp, and The Number Of The Beast (1982) is the master key that turns them into the most famous metal band in the world. If Paul Di'Anno was a misfit overflowing with cursed poetry, Bruce Dickinson is an impeccable professional. Yet it's undeniable that this album contains at least three masterpieces ("Hallowed Be Thy Name", "22 Acacia Avenue" and "Children Of The Damned", the first of which is probably the greatest of their career) and three major classics from their catalogue ("The Number Of The Beast", "Run To The Hills" and "The Prisoner").

"Hallowed Be Thy Name" is an absolute summa of their artistic vision, both for the complexity of the music (guitar overdubs bordering on prog, the track unfolding in alternating movements) and for the lyrics (the final minutes of a condemned man's life). The opening tolling of bells, Dickinson's screams of despair and, from the fourth minute on, the towering explosion of rage followed by a guitar-and-bass run, manage to be both metal for the masses and metal avant-garde. "22 Acacia Avenue" continues the story of the prostitute from "Charlot The Harlot", but in a far more elaborate and complex way. Amid constant shifts in rhythm and moments of genuine break from rock tradition, the song moves forward with harsh, direct lyrics underpinned by a profound existentialist ethic that finds its resolution in flight, the only possibility of fulfillment and redemption. It's Maiden's return to tales of outcasts, to the street life they had obsessively sung about on their first two albums. "Children Of The Damned" – loosely inspired by the science-fiction novel "The Midwich Cuckoos" by writer John Wyndham, which would go on to inspire the extraordinary 1960 film "Village of the Damned" – is a bare, desolate ballad that rises to symphonic peaks of loneliness, summed up by Dickinson's warm embrace of the damned of the title (metaphorically, the hopeless teenagers of forgotten suburbs).

"The Number Of The Beast", introduced by a passage from the Book of Revelation, becomes a classic across all of metal, placing Eddie within a satanic context tailored for mass audiences (that is, a far cry from the visceral, strictly underground satanism of the nascent extreme metal scene). "Run To The Hills" is an anthem to freedom perfect for live shows, while "The Prisoner" nods to the British science-fiction TV series.

The legacy of Iron Maiden's first three albums is enormous; starting from an innovative, if not outright revolutionary, movement, the band wrote the basic rules of what is now called classic metal.

I had to go home because my father had died of a heart attack at 57. It seemed OK with everyone. After two weeks I went back to the States. The atmosphere was tense. There was a meeting and they told me it was time for a change. I was out of the band!

(Clive Burr)

By now Harris's band is a well-oiled machine, with live shows growing ever more spectacular. This extreme professionalism claims another victim after Paul Di'Anno. Clive Burr is sacrificed for reasons that remain largely unclear; during the US tour he's forced to return to England for two weeks following his father's sudden death. The most likely cause is that Harris couldn't tolerate the erratic, extreme behaviour and the alcohol dependency of both Di'Anno and Burr: in his view, the band had to be made up of professionals with nothing to do with booze and drugs.

Clive Burr's departure and the band's massive success

In 1983 Maiden release Piece Of Mind (a pun on peace of mind and a piece of the mind), marking the debut of new drummer Nicko McBrain. The new LP represents a clear turning point. Iron Maiden are scrubbed clean of any remaining trace of Di'Anno's vision, moving into a new phase of their career where Dickinson imposes his own ideas. No more psychotic thugs brimming with rage, but war heroes; no more abandoned suburbs, but battlefields on which to glorify heroic deeds; no more gothic literary references, but journeys into science fiction or mythology. The sound becomes more compact and heavy, the lyrics turn into anthems to heroism in battle, machine-gun sound effects start creeping in, and the live shows grow ever more grandiose. In a word, Maiden's music becomes epic.

The mighty "Where Eagles Dare", one of the band's hardest and most relentless tracks, pays tribute to the daring of WWII airmen and is part of a war trilogy that also includes the breakneck "The Trooper", their live warhorse, and "Die With Your Boots On", which opens with a superbly effective guitar riff.

“Quest For Fire” shifts the setting: we find ourselves in an imaginary prehistoric world (one that never actually existed) where men and dinosaurs coexist. What stands out is the measured rhythm and Dickinson's vocal delivery, which feels less like singing and more like storytelling, in an attempt at metal with medieval music influences that will be partly revisited in the track “The Prophecy” three years later. “Flight Of Icarus” plays the mythology card and is an anthem to courage and tenacity in pursuit of impossible feats.

It's hard to imagine settings more different from those of the first two albums. Here too there are at least two masterpieces: the phenomenal “Revelations”, with lyrics inspired by the London writer G.K. Chesterton, swinging between continuous accelerations and decelerations into progressive territory, with a final fugue in pure Maiden style. But the masterpiece is without doubt “To Tame A Land”, dedicated to the “Dune” saga by science-fiction writer Frank Herbert (who scornfully refused Harris's request to use “Dune” as the title). A track that defines an era and becomes a model for generations of metal bands to imitate.

By now Eddie is an image that can be exported anywhere. Placing him in a totally alien context like ancient Egypt comes as no surprise. Even though the Iron Maiden brand has long since broken free of metal's boundaries, Harris's creativity shows no sign of flagging. Powerslave (1984) is yet another excellent work in just five years. The complete split between what they represent aesthetically (violence, war, skulls, zombies) and what they actually are in reality (flawless professionals) is by now plain for all to see. “Aces High” continues Dickinson's passion for World War aerial battles, “Flash Of The Blade” opens with yet another perfect riff and ends up on the soundtrack of Dario Argento's “Phenomena”. “Losfer Words” returns to instrumental tracks with skill and class, but unfortunately it will be the last of their career. “Back In The Village” reaches speeds bordering on delirium, while the hugely famous “2 Minutes To Midnight”, about a hypothetical nuclear apocalypse, becomes yet another crowd-pleasing hit thanks to a powerful, catchy riff.

The best moments come in the two most elaborate and complex tracks, a path Harris was by now pursuing with determination. The seven minutes of “Powerslave” are Dickinson's masterpiece, a long journey into the obsession with death, majestic and dark at once. “Rime Of The Ancient Mariner” (thirteen minutes), drawn from Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem, is the longest Iron Maiden song up to that point. Emotional, with literary ambitions, it manages to convey the protagonist's despair in a tangible way (“Water, water, every where, and all the boards did shrink; water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink”). The spoken recitation of Coleridge's text is followed by a truly unstoppable metal explosion that represents one of the band's compositional high points.

Enter the synths

Iron Maiden are by now a live machine of extraordinary efficiency. Packed stadiums with audiences of three hundred thousand that would be the envy of any mainstream artist. The “World Slavery Tour” lasts more than a year, documented in the legendary Live After Death (1985), which carries even more energy than their studio work. After a brief break they return with Somewhere In Time (1986), which marks a new turning point, this time the most difficult and divisive one for die-hard pure-metal fans. We move from Egypt to an imagined future, presumably set within the universe of “Blade Runner”. Eddie is no longer a street thug but appears to be a hyper-technological, trigger-happy policeman (the cover looks like a reversed version of “Killers”, further proof of the radical shift in perspective compared to the Di'Anno era).

The real turning point comes from an idea of Adrian Smith's: broadening the Maiden sound so as not to risk becoming, over the years, a kind of cover band of themselves. Look firmly ahead, that's the motto, and “somewhere in time” is what comes out of it. The idea is a reasonable one, but it isn't easily accepted; Harris takes a week to decide, Dickinson threatens to leave the band, but in the end Smith manages to win everyone over. The futuristic metal of “Caught Somewhere In Time” makes diehard fans turn up their noses (at least at first), horrified by the sound of the synths, but it actually works perfectly. From the intro to the final solos and Dickinson's vocals, the track carries forward, with real coherence, the evolutionary path begun years earlier.

“Stranger In A Strange Land”, inspired by Robert A. Heinlein's novel, slows the pace down almost to the point of metal-pop, with a powerful, evocative riff. It's probably the album's most original moment. Together with “Wasted Years”, it marks, in a sense, the end of the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal spirit, but none of it sounds like a betrayal — rather, like a necessary evolution. “The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner” and the epic “Alexander The Great” play cards already used before, while the remaining tracks, though decent, don't seem to live up to the band's history (among them, tracks like “Heaven Can Wait” seem written with nothing but live-show sing-alongs in mind).

The proto-prog-metal concept album

This evolutionary path reaches its peak with the concept album Seventh Son Of The Seventh Son (1988), where progressive-rock influences come through strongly (above all affinities with Genesis and Marillion among others), crowning a virtuous path that had begun years earlier. The result stands as a kind of ideal missing link with the then newly emerging progressive-metal scene, which in those years was taking shape thanks to the important work of American bands such as Fates Warning and Queensryche, as well as the groundwork laid earlier by the prog-hard-rock of Rush.

In hindsight, the album will also influence progressive-metal bands who emerged in the following decade and would cite it among their own inspirations (it was released a full six years before Images And Words” by Dream Theater, for instance), and in this sense it can be seen as a forerunner of theirs. This move towards progressive rock reaches its culmination in two tracks in particular: the title track (ten minutes), with its relentless rhythm, epic, atmospheric keyboard backing, and a memorable instrumental finale that becomes an instruction manual for future prog-metal bands (and beyond), and the epic metal ballad “Infinite Dreams”, with poetic lyrics on the duality of life and death, starting slow before exploding at the end. “The Clairvoyant” opens with a memorable bass intro before becoming yet another live staple, while “The Prophecy” recalls the feel of “Quest For Fire”.

Adrian Smith leaves. A return to the past.

Adrian didn't agree with the musical direction we wanted to take. Bruce had made his solo album with Janick and spoke very highly of him. When things started going downhill with Adrian, it was almost logical to ask Janick.

(Nicko McBrain)

From this point on, the long evolutionary journey that began with The Number Of The Beast is suddenly interrupted. Smith leaves the band, probably over differences of opinion, and embarks on a solo career. Dickinson too releases a solo LP, “Tattooed Millionaire”, on which he meets guitarist Janick Gers, who takes Smith's place. Out of this comes No Prayer For The Dying (1990), an LP that makes it quite clear why Smith left. This return to the past is above all a conceptual mistake (going backwards is inherently wrong in art) and it leaves no mark, because — for the first time — Harris fails to find an alternative path forward and attempts an impossible return to the band's early days. But it's entirely obvious that a band of millionaire professionals can in no way manage to be what they were back when they played street metal in half-empty pubs. It's their first misstep after seven straight top-tier albums, a small blemish on an otherwise enviable career. The best thing about it is the (fantastic) cover artwork, though there's something else worth saving too. “The Assassin” could be the “Killers” of the '90s, “Bring Your Daughter... To The Slaughter” is a solid metal track with horror-movie lyrics, while the title track is an attempt to recall the glory of “Hallowed Be Thy Name”, with moments that are almost harrowing in its final cries for help to God (“God give an answer to my life, God give an answer to my dreams, God give an answer to my prayers”). Also not bad is the metal fury of “Public Enema Number One”, while the ultra-conservative “Mother Russia”, an anthem to triumphant capitalism, comes as an unpleasant surprise — especially from a band that, just ten years earlier, had depicted the murder of Margaret Thatcher.

After the usual tour comes Fear Of The Dark (1992), clocking in at a hefty fifty-eight minutes, their longest album to date. Eddie transforms into a monster-tree against a gothic backdrop with a full moon behind him. Despite a ferociously violent opener ("Be Quick Or Be Dead") and the whirlwind title track that would probably become their last great live staple, plenty of tracks betray a shortage of ideas. "Afraid To Shoot Strangers" isn't bad, nor is the blasphemous metal of "Judas Be My Guide", both typically Maiden-esque, while "Wasting Love" is an atypical power ballad for the band. Beyond that, little else sticks in the memory.

The Blaze Bayley albums

The Blaze albums are damn good

(Steve Harris)

The sense that something is being lost grows ever more apparent. Dickinson leaves, probably over friction with Harris but also to devote more time to his (forgettable) solo career. The choice of replacement is a painful one - given the weight and esteem Dickinson commands among fans - and falls on the young Blaze Bayley, vocalist of Wolfsbane. If the history of Iron Maiden had been one of continuous evolution, a constant shift with every LP from their debut through to Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son, interrupted by the last two disappointing records, X Factor (1995) picks that thread back up and marks a decidedly positive change. Bayley's voice is completely different from Dickinson's, much darker and more shadowy, and Harris embarks on an approach he'll pursue for many years to come: splitting songs into three parts (opening arpeggio-metal-closing arpeggio with a coda).

What emerges is a far darker and more reflective work, with dark-tinged overtones and introspective, existentialist spirals. The epic heroics born of the distorted vision of war found in "Aces High" or "Where Eagles Dare" give way to far more realistic scenarios, painting the horror of every conflict. These are the years of the terrible war in Kosovo; the Second World War as studied in history books and celebrated as a model of heroism gives way to the real horror depicted in the bleak "Fortunes Of War", one of the most emblematic episodes of this new direction ("After the war and now that they've sent us home, I can't help but feel that I'm alone. No one can see what this conflict has done to the minds of the men who are coming home"). For the first time, Iron Maiden aren't writing about war, but against war; they no longer seek the glorification of death or glorious deeds, but describe the anguish of those who can never be the same again. The song's structure becomes the new template Harris draws on: slow opening arpeggio with vocals, classic metal but less aggressive than in the early days, a return to the opening arpeggio, and close.

"Sign Of The Cross" is the best track since "Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son" and probably the best of the '90s. Inspired by Umberto Eco's "The Name of the Rose", it opens with a monastic choir that immediately establishes a brand-new gothic atmosphere, before moving through constant surges and slowdowns, a renewed choir with martial rhythms, and a textbook final guitar onslaught. Synths once again become an integral part of the band's sound, opening up new stylistic possibilities for Harris. "Lord Of The Flies", before detonating into a classic metal track, opens with keyboards that are almost danceable, something unheard of in the Maiden catalogue. "Man On The Edge" is the most speed-driven and gripping track, unsurprisingly chosen to open every future tour. But the path Harris seems determined to pursue is one built around tracks structured like the perfect, untouchable "Fortunes Of War". "Look For The Truth", with lyrics as bleak as dark music itself, is a clone of it, as is the gorgeous "Blood On The World's Hands", with a memorable guitar intro. "The Edge Of Darkness" is again about war, this time in Vietnam, handled with maturity rather than adolescent bravado. "The Unbeliever" closes things out with eight shape-shifting minutes of rhythm and style, an ultimately brave attempt that skirts the edges of prog.

In this new season one can sense a will to take risks and avoid repeating themselves, but unfortunately there's probably a bias against Bayley, caused by the looming ghost of Dickinson that never leaves fans' minds. Out of this climate comes the eleventh LP, Virtual XI (1998), the most unjustly maligned and slandered of them all. Noticeably shorter than X Factor (almost half its length), it moves Eddie out of the medieval torture chamber and into a hyper-technological future. Panned by everyone (critics and fans alike), it forces Harris into the difficult decision to part ways with Bayley, a decision which - judging by statements made at the time - Harris endured more than fully embraced. Even today Harris takes care to stress in various interviews how significant he considers the Bayley-era albums, hoping for their deserved, if belated, rediscovery.

Accused of a shortage of ideas and even of betrayal, Virtual XI is a dignified album with plenty going for it - once again enriched by Bayley's anti-war lyrics - even if certainly less ambitious than its predecessor. It's inexplicable to trash (unless out of sheer bias) an LP that contains one of Maiden's most gripping speed tracks, three minutes of pure delirium at the speed of light ("Futureal"), and above all one of the most complex and intricately structured songs of their career ("The Clansman"), which faithfully follows Harris's new approach. But even the completely forgotten tracks deserve rediscovery. The mournful ballad "Como Estais Amigos" remembers the fallen of the British Falklands War (whether English or Argentine) with lyrics from a mature songwriter in Bayley, who knows that hatred could always return ("If we should forget their sacrifice and if evil and sadness return to visit us, we will dance in the sunlight and drink the wine of peace"). "Lightning Strikes Twice", "When Two Worlds Collide" or "Don't Look To The Eyes Of A Stranger" are decidedly more respectable than half the tracks on No Prayer For The Dying or Fear Of The Dark. Even "The Angel And The Gambler", with its ever-present keyboards - seized upon as an excuse to declare an alleged betrayal (if the notion of betrayal could ever apply to a band, then Iron Maiden should already have been "condemned" back in 1982 with Di'Anno's departure) - is a bold attempt to craft something different from classic Maiden, featuring a hard-rock solo that holds up just fine.

The reunion

In any case, the pressure for a reunion is mounting, and the label leans on Harris after an underwhelming tour. The reunion has been in the air for some time, and, with Bayley sacrificed, the thoroughly predictable return of Bruce Dickinson and the far less predictable return of Adrian Smith are announced. Iron Maiden find themselves, for the first time, with three guitars, and this, combined with the return of Smith - always critical of "old-fashioned" solutions - might suggest something new is coming. Harris confirms he has no interest whatsoever in anything metal produced in its more extreme corners during the '80s or '90s. Brave New World (2000) is therefore a grand nostalgia operation, prepared down to the smallest detail with meticulous professionalism.

All the tracks are polished and well-crafted, but largely they recall something from the earlier discography. "Ghost Of The Navigator" sounds like a simplified version of "Rime Of the Ancient Mariner", "The Mercenary" is the "Killers" of the new millennium. Harris doesn't abandon his '90s songwriting style with "Blood Brothers", dedicated to his late father. The complexity increases with the remarkable "The Nomad" (something halfway between "To Tame A Land" and "Alexander The Great") and "The Thin Line Between Love And Hate", with a surprising prog-style finale almost à la Yes. The album mends the rift between the band and their fans and hints at many more years of honeymoon ahead.

Unfortunately the follow-up, Dance Of Death (2003), doesn't live up to expectations. The signs seem ominous right from the start, beginning with the computer-generated cover art and - as if that weren't enough - the first available single that borders on embarrassing ("Wildest Dream"). Fortunately the second single, "Rainmaker", is far more enjoyable. Worth saving are the breakneck "No More Lies", the war-themed "Paschendale", the title track, and the bleak "Montségur". Also worth noting is "Journeyman", almost entirely acoustic, something not seen since "Prodigal Son" on Killers.

Certainly a step backward, but Harris manages to pick himself up and immediately take two steps forward with A Matter Of Life And Death (2006), which manages to restore dignity to their storied name thanks to a series of long, complex tracks (their already-mentioned progressive soul resurfacing). "Brighter Than A Thousand Suns", "The Reincarnation Of Benjamin Breeg", "The Longest Day" and "For The Greater Good Of God" tackle the theme of war and pair the typical structure of new-millennium Maiden songs with a palpable, tragic and fatalistic view of life.

It's a more mature, darker work, anti-war ("These Colours Don't Run") and desperate. A Matter Of Life And Death is the most mature moment of their 2000s output, capable of rising above a mere nostalgia exercise through long tracks and adult themes that bring together the band's various souls that have always coexisted within it.

The Final Frontier (2010) has the flaws of their recent LPs (the constant self-quoting) but without being backed by adequate creative spark. Having stripped away every dark element of the previous LP, they once again aim for futuristic settings, venturing into cosmic territory new to the band's output. After repeated listens, little sticks in the memory beyond the cosmic intro of "Satellite 15", while the longer, more elaborate tracks ("Isle Of Avalon", "The Talisman", "The Man Who Would Be King" and "When The Wild Wind Blows") are respectable but certainly don't stand out within their extraordinary career.

The announcement of a double album, with no fewer than four tracks running over 8 minutes, sounded on paper like an ominous bit of grave-robbing on the corpse of the fallen "trooper". Instead, the surprise is a pleasant one: Book Of Souls finally delivers an inspired and, above all, solid record, sweeping away any fears of a bloated, megalomaniac 92-minute monster. It's an album that fuses the band's two souls: the increasingly pronounced progressive streak, embodied in the sprawling epics on the tracklist, and the more melodic side. The result is an overall convincing balance between ambitious compositions, like "If Eternity Should Fail" - easily the band's best opener of the new millennium - and more straightforward tracks like "Speed Of Light", a no-frills battle anthem with just the right amount of flourish and an excellent solo section.

The album often echoes old ideas from the pairing of Somewhere In Time and Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son, especially in its use of synths and the delay-drenched guitar interplay, perhaps never exploited in all its variety as thoroughly as now, since the band went back to a three-guitar lineup. The band's aesthetic remains the same as ever, which also makes this record, essentially, a work by formula.

Nicko McBrain is the real surprise here: finally favoured by a dry, tight mix, far removed from the murky, muddy sound of recent years, he's at his best on the album's most driving tracks. Bruce Dickinson also delivers reassuring confirmation, once again soaring between sky-high peaks and expressive low notes, despite his recent scare with tongue cancer.

Book Of Souls falls short of excellence partly due to a few too many digressions, as in the extremely ambitious "Empire Of The Clouds", the Dickinson-penned epic that closes the album. The melodies on offer are effective and the use of orchestration is tasteful and intelligent, but not all of its 18 minutes feel essential, particularly in the instrumental detours of the middle section. Paradoxically, the same impression is left by the less elaborate songs on the tracklist, which would have been more effective with shorter running times ("The Great Unknown", "Death Or Glory" and "Shadows Of The Valley"), though these are venial sins at worst.

The seventeenth studio LP, Senjutsu (2021), delayed by a year due to the pandemic, confirms all the hallmarks Maiden have displayed at least since "X Factor" (1995) onward: tracks of above-average length, instantly accessible singles, and a song structure that's decidedly recurring (the usual opening acoustic arpeggio, metal mid-section, and closing arpeggio with a final flourish).

Eddie becomes an Eastern samurai destined to save humanity from its own greed, as shown in the striking video for the single "The Writing On The Wall", an immediate track that - both in the video and in the lyrics - conveys a clear worldview (rapacious capitalism devouring every resource, with Englishmen dressed as waiters in their underwear serving a Trump-like American president as slaves). A typically Maiden single, slowed down to the edge of hard rock, destined to become a new stadium anthem, rescued above all by an epic solo from the ever-impeccable Smith. The most interesting tracks are probably "Death Of The Celts", with its folk-music interludes, and "The Parchment", both of which lean closer to Harris's prog-metal soul.

Plenty of people might argue that Maiden have nothing left to say and advise against listening to "Senjutsu", but I'm quite certain they're wrong. Either way, it's significant that, in 2021, there's still a band making this kind of music, with these rules and these long-established standards. The closing "Hell On Earth", which could well be the last song in Maiden's history, gives us a preview of what the world might look like without Harris and Dickinson's band.

Contributions by Michele Bordi ("Book of Souls") and minor contributions by Alessandro Mattedi

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