Unleash the Beast

To echo what many women declare while tearing my pants off: "It's time... to Unleash the Beast". And unlike the women, I am not disappointed. This album may look like it was born in the mid 80's, but we're instead travelling back to the extremely unflattering year of 1997; a time when two hours of over-processed mid-tempo flatulence was considered value for money. In spite of this ethos, and in spite of parting ways with longtime guitarist and chief songwriter Graham Oliver, and in spite of literally everything, Unleash the Beast contains some of Saxon's moodiest, and most defiantly 'metal' compositions of their entire career.

If you think I'm setting up a tired "This is Saxon's Painkiller" analogy, you'd be absolutely right. Like Painkiller, this album is a frothy-mouthed hyperbole of Saxon's natural curvature, cranking all the dials to eleven and fighting for their integrity like a rampaging circus elephant. After finally being liberated from the shackles of 80's glam rock, can you really blame them? Incisive riffs retain semblances of their progressive blues heritage, yet are also injected with venomous audacity often seen in Dio and Ozzy's solo work. The best examples of this tropical fusion are 'Bloodletter' and the title track; two unadulterated speed metal bonfires characterized by beltfed machine gun drumming, blazing guitar duels between Quinn and newcomer Doug Scarrat, and Biff's soulful, melodic vocal harmonies.

Up until now, Biff's chirruped his way through weeping love ballads that even Vandenberg wouldn't touch without putting gloves on first. To go from spearheading 'Northern Lady ft. Elton John' to a supposedly Dio-esque album, is like going from Yoo-Hoo milk to Peyote buttons. But even after all the Def Leppard coattail riding, twelve studio albums, and twelve million gigs, Biff can unleash a roaring gusto that retains melody over a phenomenal range. He delivers my personal favorite performance in 'Cut out the Disease', a dark and menacing number that harnesses a lot of Orgasmatron energy.

Menacing is an ample word to describe the album in its entirety, with an oppressive atmosphere, overcooked guitar tone, and lyrical content that shifts restlessly from b-movie horror worship to embittered social commentary. And thus this album rests neatly inside my "In case of Saxon argument, break glass" container. It proves Saxon has a distinguishable sound, it proves they're capable of rebounding after an obscenely long losing-streak, and as a bonus, it proves not all late-90's metal was dead on arrival. It's truly remarkable that not one stray vocal effect, grunge breakdown, or groove riff slips through the cracks here. This alone makes it a must-listen for Saxon fans and skeptics alike.