Canterbury

Aside from the ascension of thrash and the continued growth of the metal underground, there were some strange things brewing in the metal scene in 1983. Pyromania’s release and phenomenal success would pave a new for metal bands to become increasingly stylish, pop-orientated and, soon enough, seemingly hundreds of bands were chasing the rightful success of Def Leppard (alright, so Quiet Riot were major hitters, but their material has often struck me as a little unremarkable). Similarly, major bands fell into an odd streak in ’83 – Motorhead’s ill-fated yet spectacular year with Brian Robertson and Sabbath’s bizarro one-off Born Again were all odd occurrences in this annus mirabilis of heavy metal. Amongst all this great change, Diamond Head found themselves between a hard rock and a pop place: clearly poised for bigger things (you might note that Canterbury and Pyromania share an engineer, although they certainly don’t share multi-platinum sales) but unable to capitalise on that whilst appeasing their original fanbase. While Metallica never covered any songs from this record – they might well have learnt from its folly when it came to their own crossover, ultra-mega-hyper seller in the early 1990s.

Upon listening to Canterbury you’ll notice a few things:
a) The band are clearly taking those Led Zeppelin comparisons seriously, albeit in a more Houses of the Holy/Physical Graffiti way – which is fine by me, as that is probably the most interesting era of Zeppelin.
b) Diamond Head are clearly pushing for radio play and “crossover” into a much more mainstream audience.
c) The band’s famous BIG RIFFS are notable in their absence here. I consider Canterbury to feature a towering, gigantic Sean Harris whilst a Hobbit-esque Brian Tatler cowers in his supporting role in the corner. Quite unlike Lightning to the Nations, which was chock-full of some of the greatest riffs you’ll ever hear.

Weirdly, despite all these warning signs and portents of a NWOBHM band’s doom or sonic disaster, Canterbury ends up being quite a charming listen. It is evident to me that the band are clearly talented enough to pull this style off (okay, let’s rephase: Harris and Tatler are talented enough, as their old rhythm section seemingly got the boot here hence an array of bassists and drummers credited on the album itself, it does reek of label interference). So, in the end, most of their Zeppelin homages are appropriately measured and their attempts at commercial rock are pleasing. Certainly, of all the NWOBHM belters, Harris is the one who has the most typically commercial voice. It’s telling that - in between stints in Diamond Head – he did produce some pop, AOR record that certainly is an amusing curio.

That’s not to say that Canterbury is without its flaws. The aforementioned tiny presence of Tatler is a disappointment given his prowess as a riff-writer. It’s hard to imagine that his riff-well had run dry of monster riffs, but it’s clear that – with Page as his muse – he’s pursuing a more subtle approach for the most part here: clever rhythm guitar textures, 12-string passages, alternate tunings and a guitar sound that barely passes a light crunch are the order of the day. Even his guitar solos tend to be very brief, “serve the song” passages. He’s good at this new style, but he was… better on the debut what with all its youth and fire. Furthermore, unlike, say, Pyromania some of the material does feel a bit “old hat”, what with the “stock” nature of some of the rhythm guitars (to quote Lars Ulrich). Similarly, some of the commercial songs feel like another lusty ode to young love (you’d make a fair guess that ‘One More Night’ is such a number, whereas ‘I Need Your Love’ is actually the most typical Diamond Head number of the album, if you overlook the new wave-ish section after the intro – so let that be a testament to how far the band have shifted from their debut).

That said, at its best, Canterbury is a very pleasant listen if you’re onboard with its stylistic quirks. Given its spritely bounce and infectious chorus, ‘Out of Phase’ wouldn’t sound out-of-place on the radio in between Dexy’s Midnight Runners and Wham. It’s almost amusing on the more epic numbers, how the band refrain from letting their heavy metal roots show: ‘The Kingmaker’ gives what would be heavy guitar parts over to the keyboards (and yes, it is very clear that the band want to write their own ‘Kashmir’). ‘To the Devil his Due’ might have a song title that promises darkness and metal, but it sounds more like a sultry James Bond theme than a hard rocker. Harris is clearly in his element crooning along and, props to him, he has the pipes to pull it off – even if the song ends up being too lethargic for my tastes. Even when the songs break out of a mid-tempo (only just!) it ends up being very much an ‘Achilles’ Last Stand’ rather than a ‘Helpless’. You can imagine Diamond Head looking at a very big Zeppelin-shaped void left in the rock scene and dreaming, wondering if they could be the ones to fill it.

Ultimately, however, I can’t help but wonder: who is Canterbury aimed at? If you compare it to a Pyromania it lacks a certain hit-orientated firepower and it’s clear why the metal world would be enamoured with, say, Piece of Mind whereas Diamond Head’s third is barely remembered at all. Even if we compare it to Saxon’s Crusader - a similarly lighter record from a heavy band – it’s clear that Saxon still manage a much more marketable album than this given its out-and-out energy and occasional epic. On this note, the record’s best track is moody, sultry ‘Ishmael’ whose Eastern feeling is like a reveller on opium travelling across distant lands in his mind. It’s really beautiful… but I’m not sure if it would win many hearts and minds in a hard rock climate in 1983, and certainly, I don’t think Diamond Head were able to reach many people outside their heavy metal postcode.

Overall, I’d recommend Canterbury to those interested in seeing where Diamond Head drifted off to after their wonderful debut. It’s a strong record in its own right – even if it’s a little confused: quasi-proggy but lacking the rhythm section to take it into real prog territory, Zeppelin-esque without the chest-beating, broaching on Leppard territory without the hits and occasionally dark but without the expected heaviness. I’m not surprised the band sunk into oblivion for the next decade – especially given the cut-throat nature of major labels. Next time you pass over this one in the second-hand bin, perhaps give it a shot… you might be pleasantly surprised.

Ah, Diamond Head: proof that derailed hype trains are by no means a recent phenomenon. The New Led Zeppelin and the apple of Metallica's eye wrote one superb album, immediately soiled it with Borrowed Time, and then sang along to the same slow rock lullaby as most of its NWOBHM compatriots. If you haven't heard of Canterbury, or perhaps only have a faint inkling of its existence and concluded it wasn't worth unearthing, don't feel bad. However, as far as risk-averse dad-rock written at the request of oblivious record companies who plugged their ears and sung 'Don't Stop Believin'' at the top of their lungs whenever anyone told them heavy metal was a commercially viable genre in the 80's... goes, it's actually not too shabby.

Canterbury, by virtue of its cohesive subject matter energized by decently imaginative songwriting, is nowhere near as boring and amateurish as its contextual brethren The Wreck Age and Crusader. My chief advice for enjoying this album is to view things in this metric, and forget Lightning to the Nations even exists. Defined by slow-rolling tempos and soft, pensive riffing, this album shares more in common with the bell curve of latter-day Jethro Tull; think specifically Broadsword and the Beast and Crest of a Knave. Organic, bluesy passages blend together with some degree of caution, making long-awaited solos feel all the more rewarding. Mind you, even standouts like the galloping 'Knight of the Swords' and the spacey, synth-propelled 'To the Devil His Due' aren't quite as fleshed out nor captivating as 'Broadsword' or 'Farm on the Freeway'. I'm just saying the similarity was potent enough to make me wish I was listening to Broadsword instead. Okay, so apparently I'm no good at this 'pardoning' thing.

While its unexpected capacity for experimental, folksy melodies shouldn't be understated, it's returning vocalist Sean Harris who truly saves this album. His pipes are simply immaculate, hitting some dramatic notes without any evidence of effort. To my ears he sounds similar to Vic Wright, Tokyo Blade's second vocalist after spurning the more rakish, Di'Anno-style Andy Marsh. And, much like Tokyo Blade's fate, Canterbury adopts an unmistakably cleaner-cut aesthetic that frankly doesn't even resemble metal anymore.

That doesn't necessarily mean it's bad music, though, as evidenced by the dreamy cruiser 'Ishmael'. Harmonized sections and blues-addled howls work in tandem with the sagely acoustics, developing an eerie countenance as if attempting to hybridize classic Queen with Blue Öyster Cult. 'Ishmael' is one of the album's flashes of proggy genius that actually legitimizes their abandoning of the hot-blooded speed metal they just got done inventing. ...But all that's from an album I told you to forget about, remember?