The X Factor

(And no, not many good things came out of it)

Life after Bruce… it wasn't an easy stage in Iron Maiden's career. Not only did traditional heavy metal as whole take a major bust in popularity during the 90s, but Iron Maiden's earlier studio output from that decade wasn't all that encouraging. It took them a long time to find a replacement for Dickinson, and by that time the band's popularity had dropped quite a bit. American metal was being (pun alert) dominated by Pantera and their clones, and on a much more underground level by the emergence of brutal death metal, while the European scene was teeming with (evil) life in the form of extreme metal and a handful of great power/speed metal bands. I'm afraid the task that was presented to “Blaze” Bayley Alexander Cooke was almost impossible to accomplish. But he was nonetheless chosen to carry Eddie's torch, and at least he tried.

Iron Maiden's tenth studio recording is quite a large beast, clocking at one hour and eleven minutes. There are, however, painfully few moments of true Iron grandeur to be found here. The production is pretty good, almost as good as their 21st Century material, albeit with a few drops in volume, like in the unnecessarily long intro to opener “Sign of the Cross” or the beginning of “Fortunes of War”. Greater emphasis is placed on the guitars and Steve's muscular and acrobatic as usual bass, as if to compete with the groove metal outfits polluting the scene. The solos are quite alright, but again, I believe Iron Maiden's golden era of guitar solos were the 80s. Nicko's drums also sound heavier than usual, not in a good heavy metal way, but stale and slow, heavy as in something that's difficult to lift, like he's playing without drive and energy. The snare in particular, almost sounds St. Anger-esque.

But unsurprisingly, the lowest point of the album is of course Blaze's voice, which has nothing incendiary to it. Au contraire; it's monotone, unexpressive and remains in the same gruffy mid-range register throughout the entire recording. He attempts a few Dickinsoninan, passionate screams, but the unaccomplished results sound fake and unoriginal. In fact, he does try to sound like Bruce most of the time, but ends up sounding like an older, yet to be heard, version of him. Why did they choose this bloke as their frontman is beyond me, but history has been written. Unlike Judas Priest's replacement for the Metal God during the 90s and beyond, who at least had the technical chops, Blaze is mediocre at best and gets tiresome really soon. I couldn't help myself but to envision these eleven tunes with Bruce at the mic. The magnificent 2002 Rock in Rio's version of “Sign of the Cross” is a legit indicator of what this release might have sounded if Dickinson had remained in the band. Not that it would instantly transform it into a masterpiece, though.

Speaking of “Sign of the Cross”, it's hands down the best composition here, mid- paced but epic, and while it's still a far cry from “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” or “Seventh Son of a Seventh Son”, it is a pretty good composition, memorable and unique in Iron Maiden's discography thanks to its heavy use of Gregorian chants. “Man on the Edge” is the faster, shorter number here, recalling “Be Quick or Be Dead” not only because of its speed, but also due to its social-themed lyrics, which are however a bit weird. That's right, I also prefer Bruce's lyrics to Blaze's. Even so, it is my favorite Blaze-era song. The middle of the record is totally meh to me, but other decent tunes appear towards the end; “Blood on the World's Hands”, which has a fairly cool bass soloing intro by Harris and transforms into a solid track, and the blue-collar hymn “2 A.M.” with a catchy chorus that is Blaze’s best performance on the album, by far. But truth is most songs blend into one another and lack enough personality to be remembered or recognized. They do still sound Iron Maiden, but in a generic, uninspiring way.

Overall, the band sounds tired and aged, as if this release was recorded 15 years AFTER The Final Frontier, and not the other way around. It's amazing how the return of our beloved Bruce and Adrian would reinvigorate and rejuvenate the rest of the Irons at the turn of the Century. As for The X Factor, whenever I'm curious enough to revisit it, which doesn't happen too often, I just can't avoid picturing a geriatric Eddie, reassembled from the pieces the industrial butchering on the Hugh Syme cover artwork left, and strolling in a wheelchair at a slug pace, mindlessly drooling, its glowing tiny eyes staring lifelessly at a fixed point (maybe a Blaze pic hanging on the wall). Bayley would remain with the album for yet another disappointing release, but fortunately for us, Eddie would return later, as mighty as ever.