Of course, people inevitably will disagree about musical taste, and I welcome a friendly debate or discourse on the merits of various bands, genres or albums. However, vicious and/or profanity-laced personal attacks are extremely childish, hateful and unnecessary. Such comments will be deleted immediately and reported as spam.

Thank you very much.–Jonathan Kollnot

Their new album may be entitled The World is Yours, but after witnessing Motörhead’s live devastation of The Orbit Room on Tuesday night, the world clearly is theirs. These British pioneers of their indefinable amalgamation of punk rock and speed metal have always done their own thing, their own way, and their diehard fans wouldn’t want it any other way. Like a fine aged wine, or AC/DC, Lord Lemmy Kilmister and co. still deliver their inimitable brand of rock and roll the same way they always have: loud and fast, and louder and faster.

Following a brief dinner detour at the Cantina Mexican Restaurant off the 28^th Street business district, my brother Jeff and I arrived at The Orbit Room nightclub shortly before doors were to open at 6:30 p.m. We have witnessed many a great metal show on these somewhat hallowed grounds over the past 11 years: Halford, Dio/Malmsteen/Doro, Megadeth/Iced Earth, Trivium, In Flames, Arch Enemy, HellYeah, Megadeth again, Opeth, Black Label Society etc. So The Orbit Room has grown to be a comfortable hometown venue, even if the room is bass heavy and the sound can be hit-or-miss depending on the night and sound man. Given the typically-frigid West Michigan temps in the low ‘20s, we decided to wait it out in Jeff’s temporary vehicle (his rental Chevy HHR, or Horseshit Herbert River, as it has been dubbed) until the line started moving inside. Once we got in the lobby, it didn’t take us long to purchase our Motörhead t-shirts and head into the concert hall. Even though it was early, it was already apparent that it would be a packed house tonight, with the spacious balcony open for business as well.

I won’t waste much space describing the opening acts, but I’ll try to summarize their performances the best I can. Valient Thorr was up first, and they were a curious act from the onset. This heavily-bearded quintet looked like ZZ top in denim vests, either that or back-hills moonshiners from Tennessee, apart from the younger affro-donning bass player, who was bouncing around the stage while almost exclusively playing in the middle range of the fretboard. I’d interpret VT’s sound as a brisk heavy rock that sounds influenced by some of the more up-tempo New Wave of British Heavy Metal bands, including lots of riff changes and some nice harmonized guitar solos. Valient Thorr’s vibe seemed more upbeat and party-hardy than heavy, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps it would be easier to get into their shows if one already had heard their albums, but live it seemed like most of their songs consisted of a hodge podge of riffs thrown together without enough of a coherent structure to make them feel like real “songs.” Still, it wasn’t a bad warm-up for the night.

I do not like Clutch at all, and neither does Jeff. So after 2-3 songs we made our way to the lobby to use the restroom and wait it out with the rest of the disinterested Motörheadbangers. As a caveat, however, Clutch was very popular this night, and many members of the audience could be seen dancing/bopping along to their tunes and singing along to their lyrics. So what do I know? What sounds like utter sanity-draining boredom to one can be like Beethoven’s Ninth to another.

Finally, after squirming our way back into the hall and finding a great spot close to center stage and just five or six rows back, the lights dimmed to the sound of the crowd cheering but no recorded intro or other such bells and whistles. There was just a brief rumble of bass guitar, and Lemmy and the boys quietly took to the stage, Lemmy wearing his trademark all-black getup with cowboy hat as if he were an outlaw straight out of a Sergio Leone western. Exuding class and poise as one of the most important elder statesmen of rock, Lemmy calmly uttered into the mic: “We are Motörhead, and we play rock and roll.” Then followed the most ungodly, brutally amazing, primordial wall of a distorted bass sound these ears have ever heard, and the mega-POWER trio launched into “We Are Motörhead.” To quote another godfather, Sir. Ozzy, “let the madness begin…”

As expected, Lemmy, guitarist Phil Campbell and drummer Mickey Dee delivered their infectious brand of unbelievably fast and loud rock and roll, well, unbelievably fast and loud. Putting much younger acts to shame, after the early classic “Stay Clean,” Lemmy asked the audience, “raise one arm if you want us to play louder. Okay, that looks pretty unanimous.” Motörhead’s performance was a devastating onslaught of heavy and powerful music that still can’t be easily pigeonholed or labeled. Still, the youth and elders alike formed some mighty pits and moshed throughout the show, thrash metal or not. Lemmy’s music inspires fans of all ages to blow of steam and safely sow their aggressive oats, and that they did. Every song, whether it was from the their last few releases or from their first three albums, was delivered succinctly and precisely like a Panzer tank on the loose at the Marne.

The hits kept coming. Just four songs into it, here came the distorted bass chords to “Metropolis,” and the mid-tempo grinder tore us apart. Then the band shuffled away “Over the Top” before Phil Campbell entranced us for a few minutes with his soulfully shreddy unaccompanied guitar solo. We were all treated to a “One Night Stand,” and other newer tracks followed, which Jeff and I were less familiar with than the old classics. But suddenly the familiar deliberate, grinding bass riff to “The Chase is Better Than the Catch” began, my all-time favorite Motörhead tune. The sonic reverie during this rampage was nothing short of sublime. Then came “In the Name of Tragedy,” before which Lemmy quipped, “This song is dedicated to Mr. William Shakespeare. Yeah, who reads that shit anyway?” followed a masterfully hypnotic drum solo by Mr. Dee, which kept the pit going and some lovely young ladies dancing away ecstatically. Speaking of lovely young ladies, the band showcased a beautiful tattooed brunette, who also happened to breathe and eat fire, during “Killed By Death.” She mesmerized the crowd and highlighted the tune by spitting bursts of flame rhythmically during the chorus and steadily throughout the rest of the track. The talented young woman appeared again during “Ace of Spades,” this time as a dancer as the pits swelled and swarmed before the orange glow reflected through the smoke onstage. Lemmy and the band looked just like they did in the old music video from the ‘80s, and they never sounded so loud and vibrant.

Finally, after leaving the stage and returning for the obligatory encore, Lemmy and the Motörhead boys blasted their way through an extended version of “Overkill,” replete with strobe lights aplenty, which still did not detract the moshers from wreaking their havoc. When the band finally left the stage and said good night and, “Remember, we play rock and roll,” (as opposed to “metal” or other such meaningless label nonsense) it seemed all too short, even though we knew it really wasn’t. Let’s just hope this rumored “final” tour was just that: a rumor. And Motörhead? They’re nothing but world class.–Jonathan Kollnot

–Approximate setlist: 1.) We Are Motörhead 2.) Stay Clean 3.) Get Back in Line 4.) Metropolis 5.) Over The Top 6.) One Night Stand 7.) Rock Out 8.) Guitar Solo 9.) The Thousand Names of God 10.) I Got Mine 11.) I Know How to Die 12.) The Chase is Better Than the Catch 13.) In the Name of Tragedy/Drum Solo 14.) Just ‘Cos You Got the Power 15.) Going to Brazil 16.) Killed By Death 17.) Ace of Spades. Encore: Overkill.

–SAVATAGE: Edge of Thorns (1993)

October 17, 1993. It’s another of those dark days in music history that, to cheaply quote F.D.R., “will live in infamy.” It was perhaps a few days later that a diffident 17-year-old metalhead was sitting in his Colorado bedroom listening to 105.9 KPBI, “Rocks The Rockies.” Between songs the D.J. announced a quick news blurb: 30-year-old Savatage guitarist Criss Oliva has just been killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. Oliva’s wife, Dawn, was seriously injured. I sat there dumbfounded, devastated that one of my favorite guitarists from one of the best, most unsung bands in the world was suddenly gone.

It had only been a few weeks since the Tampa-based progressive/melodic metallers had performed in Denver. However, it being an 18-and-up show and me being underage, I was S.O.L. on seeing my beloved Savatage until their next visit. They had been supporting their latest and most successful release, the brilliant Edge of Thorns platter, the album that had defined and consumed my soul for months on end. No, it wasn’t my first exposure to Savatage; that was 1991’s Streets and 1987’s Hall of the Mountain King albums, and their classic Gutter Ballet (1989) followed closely behind in my stereo. But an email and penpal friend of mine (thanks again, Julie!) who worked at a music store (remember those things?) got an advance copy of EOT and sent me a taped copy of it. I was immediately, permanently hooked months before I got a chance to buy my own copy.

What was so great about EOT? Where shall I begin? How about the crunchy riffs and fiery, blues-influenced soul shredding of Criss. Or the clean and gutsy mid-ranged power belting of new singer Zak Stevens, replacing Criss’ brother and long-time musical partner Jon Oliva. But mainly it’s about the amazing songs on this, my favorite of Savatage’s diverse and excellent catalog. From the precise and heavy palm-muted riffing, to mellow cleanly arpeggiated accompaniment and acoustic passages, to Jon Oliva’s beautiful piano work, EOT took Savatage’s previous prog-metal formula and strengthened it. Savatage joined the big leagues on this album, with the dynamic songs becoming the soundtrack to many (I’m sure) an angst-ridden high schooler’s life.

This record spoke to me more than any other, at the time of release, than any other of my all-time-favorite list. It was as if producer Paul O’Neill and the Olivas had written this recorded exactly for the forgotten, confused, depressed or misguided young people, as if it were the Beatles crooning all over again, “Hey, look at all the lonely people.” The iconic title track, with the eerie piano intro and mid-paced slicing main riff, sings of a romance as futile and fleeting as it was unforgettable, “But I don’t think about you anymore?” Oh really; then why are you singing about it, eh? Another plaintive, mid-tempo track lamenting a lost lover, “Conversation Piece,” relates how a “picture on a shelf is good for conversation over a cup of tea.” The gorgeous and melancholy piano-based ballad, “All That I Bleed,” stayed on infinite repeat on my CD player for a long time. Here Stevens plaintively croons about receiving a heartfelt letter at the end of a long-distance love affair. “All the things we keep inside/All the things that really matter/The face puts on its best disguise/All is well/Until the heart betrays.” Then that monstrous rhythm guitar enters in that magnificent chorus: “Lord Bring on the night/Wrap it all around me/Let it hold me tight/soak up all that I Bleed.” This song features one of Criss’ most moving solos, and it’s still one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard.

Then there’s “Sleep,” the somber acoustic closer that’s almost taciturn in its longing, “Hey there you/way out there could you show me/just a signal/or a sign/that after all these years/that you know me/and I’m not just killing time.” Whether the narrator is yearning for God or a lost lover, this song is a perfect conclusion to a masterpiece of musical equilibrium. “Exit Music,” the haunting three-minute piano instrumental, works as a fitting swansong and tribute to Criss.

As for the rest: it’s the apotheosis of musical achievement and emotional catharsis. Check it out for yourself and discover how EOT’s heavier tracks such as “He Carves His Stone,” “Skraggy’s Tomb,” “Follow Me,” “Damien,” and “Miles Away,” enlighten and empower with their dynamic balance of melody, touching lyrics and just the right amount of metallic force. Enough said.–Jonathan Kollnot

P.S. Just a few years later, Jon Oliva, Paul O’Neill, Stevens and a host of others debuted a little side project called Trans-Siberian Orchestra. But that’s another tale for some other day.

–Tracklisting: 1.) Edge of Thorns 2.) He Carves His Stone 3.) Lights Out 4.) Skraggy’s Tomb 5.) Labyrinths (Instrumental) 6.) Follow Me 7.) Exit Music (Instrumental) 8.) Degrees of Sanity 9.) Conversation Piece 10.) All That I Bleed 11.) Damien 12.) Miles Away 13.) Sleep

After sadly having to miss the last few editions of the Warriors of Metal Festival, I’m pleased to say that I am making plans to attend and cover next year’s version of the nascent traditional metal fest in Chillicothe, Ohio. The June, 2010 edition featured bands such as my good friends ASKA from Dallas, the legendary U.S. Metal Blade act Omen (also featuring ASKA vocalist George Call and drummer Danny White), Cage from San Diego, Icarus Witch and more. The organizers are already promising a bigger and better fest for WOM IV in 2011, and my brother Jeff and I are psyched to finally make it down and support some of the best in metal the U.S. has to offer. I will continually post WOM Festival news updates as they appear.

Finally, Black Label Society has an e-card of their new album, Order of the Black, available at this location. I occasionally enjoy doses of Zakk Wylde’s soulful Sabbathy groove, so I look forward to checking out a few tunes from this.

That’s it for now. Here is last week’s playlist, and keep it loud!–Jonathan Kollnot

PLAYLIST: 7/12-7/18. RUSH, A Farewell to Kings; HELSTAR, The King of Hell; IRON MAIDEN, Death on the Road Disc 1; CIRCLE II CIRCLE, Burden of Truth; AGENT STEEL, Alienigma.

Hope all is well with you out in cyber-metal-land. It’s been a busy, crazy couple of weeks here in my personal and work life, so this blog unfortunately has suffered as a result. However, I do not want this site to be neglected or abandoned like was for six months(!) earlier this year, so I’m planning a few updates/changes to my format.

First, I plan to start a weekly update post that will include some music news, a playlist as well as some personal thoughts on whatever comes to mind. That should keep the blog current and ensure that regular postings do not fall by the wayside. Also, my plan to publish one feature review-per-week will continue, and I will include additional brief reviews of as many current and classic releases as I can.

Now, for the news: an end for the massive Metallica Death Magnetic tour is finally in sight this fall. Also, both Arch Enemy guitarists have been busy working on solo material and their respective side projects. Christopher Amott’s new solo album Follow Your Heart is out now in Japan, and the two myspace clips sound like some gorgeous, atmospheric and bluesy guitar work this side of the ’70s. Meanwhile, Michael Amott’s Spiritual Beggars prepares for the release of its seventh album this fall. Check it out!

Okay, that’s all for now. Take it easy, have fun and, as always, keep it frakkin LOUD!–Jonathan Kollnot

–FEAR FACTORY: Mechanize (2010)

“Slave to the industry, faceless in the machine

You do not realize you’re dehumanized

You cannot survive, unless you comply

I built it to break it down

We become mechanized”

Fear Factory’s vision of humanity is bleak. It always has been. As long as human society remains broken, rife with corporate and governmental corruption, rampant immorality, pandemic disease, religious superstition, and blind fear superseding individuality, Los Angeles, California modern thrash monsters Fear Factory always will have something to protest. In the past, the lyrics of Burton C. Bell, Dino Cazares and co. have highlighted the tenuous relationship between man and machine, a Terminator-like sci-fi scenario in which the technology eventually overpowers and dominates its creator. Now, Fear Factory circa 2010 needs no dark imaginative visions to fuel their industrial metal machine. All they require is real life.

The recently-reconfigured Fear Factory have taken this newfound inspiration to unparalleled heights on Mechanize. This, the band’s the band’s seventh full-length release, and the first since co-founding guitarist Cazares rejoined the fold in 2009, is a triumph of decimating proportions. Mechanize may just be FF’s most brutal release since 1998’s Obsolete, with the ultra-precise technical rhythmic crunch on prime display. But it’s also a truly balanced piece of work, and that sonic equilibrium creates a stunningly memorable listen. As with all of FF’s material, Mechanize alternates Cazares’ heavy thrash riffs and Bell’s aggressive shouting vocals with melodic choruses and haunting clean singing. They were among the first bands to juxtapose the ultra-brutality with sublime melodicism, and Mechanize might be their crown jewel.

Alongside Bell and Cazares, FF retained bassist Byron Stroud from their previous two CDs (2004’s Archetype and 2005’s Transgression) and are joined by ex-Death drummer Gene Hoglan. Former drummer Raymond Herrera and ex-bassist-turned-guitarist Christian Olde Wolbers have gone on to form their own group, and they dispute the legitimacy of this current FF lineup amid conflicting reports from both camps. No matter, Mechanize sounds like Fear Factory, the lyrics read like Fear Factory and the record destroys just like Fear Factory albums always have. The musicianship on display is top-notched too, with the double-bass-driven, machine gun blast of a rhythm section offering no audible step down from the original Herrera/Wolbers lineup. Production-wise, this is one clear, powerful and crunchy mother, sort of like standing directly in front of a wall of P.A. speakers without hearing protection. The synthesized industrial-type sound effects are still present in small doses also, infusing the sound with a futuristic effect not unlike a mechanical monster.

Still, the songs are the most important thing, and Mechanize delivers some of the greatest pieces of music in FF’s 21-year career in metal. FF consistently and brilliantly alternate between mechanically-precise heaviness and speed with divine melodies in the infectious choruses. Words do not come close to doing the songs any justice at all, and every song’s a bonafied winner, so I won’t bother delving into a song-by-song rundown. But let’s just say that if you’re having some hard times, if you need an motivational and exhilarating soundtrack to a frustrating life, or if you just want to hear a crushing metal album that kicks arse and takes names, look no further than Mechanize.

Oh yeah, if there’s a more moving, gorgeous and eerie metal ballad in existence than “Final Exit,” I will eat this review (as long as Fear Factory is still blasting in my ear drums.)

P.S. The deluxe dig pack CD edition also features “Crash Test” as a bonus track, and the band’s 1991 three-song demo.–Jonathan Kollnot

–Tracklisting: 1.) Mechanize 2. Industrial Discipline 3.) Fear Campaign 4.) Powershifter 5.) Christploitation 6.) Oxidizer 7.) Controlled Demolition 8.) Designing the Enemy 9.) Metallic Division 10.) Final Exit 11.) Crash Test (bonus) 12. Big God (bonus) 13. Self Immolation (bonus) 14.) Soul Wound (bonus)

“Contemplate your last breath

As you see the face of death

Contemplate your last breath

Breath, slowly breath

Goodbye”– Fear Factory, “Final Exit”

–THIN LIZZY: Fighting (1975)

“You’ve got to give a little love to those who love to live

You’ve got to take a little hate from those who have to wait”

The record may be entitled Fighting, but Irish hard rockers Thin Lizzy simply were spreading the love. Spreading love to the young and hopeful. Sending more love to those who are already lovers. Giving love to the oppressed, desperate or dissolute. But don’t mistake Thin Lizzy’s fifth and, in some ways, artistic breakthrough album as some sort of idealistic hippy trip. Thin Lizzy loved spreading a message of peace through rock, but they were also not afraid to fight for what they want. It’s this dichotomy that made Thin Lizzy the phenomenal and unique band that they were. Note: I say “were” because in no way do I consider this current Philip Lynott/Brian Downey-less version as a legitimate Thin Lizzy lineup. John Sykes and co. should be ashamed of themselves for misusing the hallowed Thin Lizzy name!

It’s funny how personal memories and sentimentality can affect how music touches an individual fan. Fighting is not, in my opinion, Thin Lizzy’s greatest album from a purely musical perspective. In fact, I’d consider most of its successors to be superior in terms of metallic power and consistency of songwriting. But Fighting is a record that struck a nerve at a particularly difficult time in my life, and for that reason it just may be my favorite of Thin Lizzy’s fourteen great albums. I recall buying the album on cassette in a Safeway bargain bin back in 1999 as my very first Thin Lizzy purchase. This traditional metalhead and college senior was looking for some new musical inspiration in a melancholy and lonely time. Fighting became my new best friend in my walkman, in my backpack, as I walked a mile from work to that sleazy Denver motel I lived in for six weeks. That tape’s inspirational message of perseverance and its gorgeous twin guitar harmonies helped pull me through to the light.

Given the album’s musical and lyrical power, I have a hunch Fighting has struck others in a similarly emotional way over 35 years. This was the second album to feature the guitar tandem of Scott Gorham and Brian Robertson and their trademark lead guitar harmonies, often of Celtic derivation. Unlike its diverse but uneven predecessor, 1974’s Nightlife, Fighting is a consistently hard-rocking platter even its tremendous peaks and shallow valleys. The dips are few, though the opening cover of Bob Seger’s “Rosalie” lolls along at a mid-tempo gait and barely hints at the hyper-melodious poetic sonic glory to come. “Silver Dollar” is another lazy number with a bit of a jazzy clean-guitar sound, but Lynott’s impassioned crooning “I’d bet a silver dollar/you love another” on the chorus more than redeems this diversion.

Then there’s the Mt. Everests of Fighting. Take the upbeat and infectious guitar harmonies in the introduction and chorus of “For Those Who Love to Live,” a singularly emotional bit of rough-n-tumble storytelling only Phil Lynott could write. Other tunes, such as the muscular duel guitar workout of “Suicide,” the anthem-like title track and the groovy funkish power of “Ballad of a Hard Man” sit squarely in the quality hard rock zone. “King’s Vengeance” features a subtly funky guitar riff before exploding into monstrous chords and melodies in the chorus, while “Spirit Slips Away” is a deliberately-paced and haunting ode to one’s last moments. Featuring a muscular chord progression and more jaw-droppingly beautiful guitar harmonies, “Freedom Song” is as inspirational as its title. But the album’s centerpiece, the mighty ode to the lonely, rambling dreamer in us all, “Wild One,” is as perfect as a hard rock ballad can get. With guitar harmonies so lush and soothing, Lynott delivers some of his most plaintive and soulful vocals on truly gorgeous piece of musical poetry. In fact, it’s useless to try to pick out poignant lyrical samples, so I’ll simply post them here for your enjoyment. This is my favorite song in Thin Lizzy’s extensively awesome catalog.

At once majestic, heavy, melancholy, melodic and soulful, Thin Lizzy’s amazing music is beyond description. So why try? Because it’s fun. But I’ll shut up now, and you go listen.–Jonathan Kollnot

–Tracklisting: 1.) Rosalie 2.) For Those Who Love to Live 3.) Suicide 4.) Wild One 5.) Fighting My Way Back 6.) King’s Vengeance 7.) Spirit Slips Away 8.) Silver Dollar 9.) Freedom Song 10.) Ballad of a Hard Man

“Wild one won’t you please come home
You’ve been away too long, will you
We need you home, we need you near
Come back wild one will you

How can we live without your love
You know that could kill you
How can we carry on
When you are gone my wild one

So you go your way wild one
I’ll try and follow
And if you change your mind
I will be waiting here for you tomorrow

For I would beg for you
I would steal and I would borrow
I’d do anything, anything at all
To end this sorrow

Wild one
The gypsies warned of the danger
You can laugh and joke with friends
But don’t you ever talk to strangers

Although their offers may be sweet
And I’d bet and I would wager
Away you’ll stray and never come back
To those who love and made you”

–JUDAS PRIEST: British Steel 30^th Anniversary Edition (1980, 2010, w/ bonus concert DVD)

Judas Priest=Heavy Metal. ‘Nuff said. Forged of the charred, industrial furnace of Birmingham, England, heavy metal in its original, purest form (Black Sabbath, Priest) has toed the metallic line for over 40 years. Given the fact that Judas Priest has been releasing albums and thrilling millions of marauding metalheads since 1974, the band and Sony Music thought that their landmark 1980 British Steel album deserved the re-release treatment. Right they were, says Yoda.

Now, for a little caveat. This writer wasn’t there following much of Priest’s career, and in fact I only received my first Judas Priest album, Painkiller (then the band’s most recent output), for Christmas during my senior year of high school, long after I had been obsessively listening to lots of other bands. While I liked Painkiller’s exhilarating speed metal stylings and the paint-pealing shrieks of Rob Halford, it wasn’t until later in my college years and finally seeing The Priest live in ‘98 (with Tim “Ripper” Owens on the mic) that Priest finally began to threaten the mighty Iron Maiden, Dio and Savatage as one of my favorite bands. Of course, during those years I did eventually purchase most of their back catalog on CD, including the original version of the subject of this review.

British Steel is not my favorite Priest album, though it certainly ranks somewhere in the top-five or six. It lacks the extremes of mind-bending speed, ear-piercing screams and gorgeously mellow ballads of many other Priest albums, sitting squarely in comfortable stylistic middle ground. But British Steel remains one of the most definitive albums in the heavy metal genre, the record that broke “Judas Priest METAL!” to the worldwide masses. For those facts alone the album deserves props, and it is indeed a classic slab of elemental metallic rock (insert favorite element from the Periodic Table here). This remastered version offers a slightly beefier and louder modern mix but not overwhelmingly so. Bassist Ian Hills’s simple yet driving bass lines are prominent in the mix, and the rhythm guitar crunch of deities Glenn Tipton and K.K. Downing sounds a bit more powerful than in the original release. Overall, I reckon the remastered British Steel is a solid improvement over the original without suffering from the contemporary annoyance of being obnoxiously loud from overmastering.

Now for the songs. Come on, you know the songs. But here’s a brief recap anyway. The band (or the powers that be) chose to fiddle with the track listing a bit, so instead of the expected iconic riff of “Breaking The Law” opening the album, you hear the rapid double-bass drum intro and Rob exclaiming, “Pounding the world like a battering ram/forging the furnace for the final grand slam.” The frenetic “Rapid Fire” is perhaps a more appropriately energetic opening, while the pulsing power chords and crushing palm-muted verse riff of “Metal Gods” emphasize why Priest indeed are the Metal Gods. “Breaking the Law” has you fist-pumping and singing the title refrain like it’s yesteryear before the chugging guitars runs you through the “Grinder” while “looking for meat.”

Here the album takes a brief departure from the metal mayhem for the anthemic sing-along “United,” and then the upcoming mid-tempo rocker with some truly catchy riffs and vocal hooks reminds us, “You Don’t Have To Be Old To Be Wise.” The ubiquitous party-rock hit, “Living After Midnight,” follows, which is simply a warm-up for British Steel’s greatest moment, the incomparable “The Rage.” Opening with a slow, funky bass line and some syncopated reggae guitar chords, “The Rage” is a ponderously crushing number that features a monstrous main riff and some divine vocal highs from Sir. Rob. The tune is my favorite on the album, but the brisk closer “Steeler” is by no means a slouch either. It concludes with the somewhat hokey studio bonus track, “Red White & Blue” and a live version of “Grinder.” To say British Steel is an essential component of any metalhead’s collection is a severe understatement. So buy it again for the first time.

Making re-purchasing British Steel more than worthwhile is the bonus concert DVD included in the package. The 16-track DVD documents the Hollywood, Florida stop of the Priest’s 2009 world tour in which they played the British Steel album in its entirety. This is an extremely high-quality concert video, featuring professional direction and sound throughout. The band fires on all cylinders while accurately marching through British Steel in the same song order as the new CD version. Halford sings with passion here, although admittedly he can’t hit all those high notes cleanly anymore. Thankfully, this particular album didn’t feature too many upper-range notes for him to worry about. But he sounds good, even with his current raspy bite, on the high-note crescendos on songs like “You Don’t…” and “The Rage.” The band displays tremendous fire and enthusiasm while plying their trade on eight other tracks from their extensive back catalog, the personal highlights being the triple-threat barn-burning destruction of “Hell Patrol,” “Victim of Changes” and “Freewheel Burning.” Halford decides to take some of the more extremely-high vocal lines down in octave nowadays, most noticeable on eviscerating tunes like Painkiller’s “Hell Patrol,” but the dude’s been doing this since the early ‘70s and deserves some slack. The Priest is back! I will note that the audience here, what little we see of it, seems ridiculously laid back, unenthused and, for lack of a more sophisticated term, “lame” through most of the concert. Also included: a making of British Steel interview.–Jonathan Kollnot

–CD Tracklisting: 1.) Rapid Fire 2.) Metal Gods 3.) Breaking The Law 4.) Grinder 5.) United 6.) You Don’t Have To Be Old To Be Wise 7.) Living After Midnight 8.) The Rage 9.) Steeler 10). Red White & Blue 11.) Grinder (Live)

–DVD Tracklisting: 1.) Rapid Fire 2.) Metal Gods 3.) Breaking The Law 4.) Grinder 5.) United 6.) You Don’t Have To Be Old To Be Wise 7.) Living After Midnight 8.) The Rage 9.) Steeler 10.) The Ripper 11.) Prophecy 12.) Hell Patrol 13.) Victim of Changes 14.) Freewheel Burning 15.) Diamonds & Rust 16.) You’ve Got Another Thing Coming

–IRON MAIDEN: The Number of the Beast (1982)

Every rocker has his or her own particular conversion story. And, I believe, each individual has that one special album that literally changed their life for the better. It’s that one mind-blowing, incendiary album than can alter a worldview, shift attitudes and lifestyles, or just infuse one with a massive surge of enthusiasm for life. For the newly-converted fan, life thereafter will never be the same.

Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast was the ultimate metaphoric lightning bolt for me. Sure, it wasn’t the first metal album I’d heard or even enjoyed. I previously was a fan of hard rock bands such as Motley Crue, Van Halen, KISS, AC/DC, Aerosmith and Led Zeppelin, and by my freshman year of high school I had even had some more extreme metal by Metallica (Kill ‘Em All) in my collection. But TNOTB was to be the album that changed my life forever, making me bleed heavy rock and metal as long as I live and breathe. I don’t doubt that this album has had the same effect on many others.

In the summer of 1991, I was a 15-year-old soon-to-be sophomore bored off my proverbial arse with nothing to do in a new town and new state. With my family having just moved from West Michigan to Denver, Colorado the previous November, and about to start my fifth school in one calendar year, music and family were my only relief outlets. I remember getting my Columbia House mail order music catalog and seeing that they had cassette copies of Iron Maiden’s TNOTB available for just $2. Although I had never heard Iron Maiden before in my life, for at least a year I had been intrigued by their fantastical horror-themed album covers because of a brief encounter with a couple of middle school classmates. These two kids had brought a case full of cassettes to school one day, bragging in the library that they “had all the Maiden tapes.” I thought Maiden’s grotesque album covers were mesmerizing bizarre and yet beautiful, but I wasn’t sure what I would ever think of the music. A seventh grade teacher had also referred to Maiden in class once as the ultimate modern heavy band like Iron Butterfly. Columbia House’s ultra-cheap offer simply was too tempting to pass up, so 11 days later I was holding a shrink-wrapped cassette of my very first Iron Maiden album in my hands.

Heading up to my room and popping that tape in the deck for the first time was like being struck by lightning. I have never experienced such a visceral charge while listening to an album for the first time, before or since. The music was even more exciting than the colorful and evil-looking cover. It was loud, brash, speedy and heavy-as-all-hell music, but Bruce Dickinson’s vocals made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. I had never heard such a beautiful human voice in my life: so clean, so powerful, so high-ranged and exuberant. This, Maiden’s third album, scared the hell out of me and thrilled me to no end with its graphically violent lyrics and perfect metallic equilibrium. Again and again and again I listened to that tape, three or four times that first day, and I didn’t slow down for weeks. I bought up every single Iron Maiden album within a relatively short period of time, and they remained my very favorite band for many years. Number was my heavy metal soldier’s initiation rite, and I was hooked for good.

Now, if you are reading this then I can safely assume you already know about Iron Maiden’s history, and I’m sure you know for yourself how great an album Number is. But all I can do is to tell you how it makes me FEEL. Opening track “Invaders” is a lightning bolt of speed that is shocking in its brutality, while the melancholy, cleanly-arpeggiated guitar intro to “Children of the Damned” introduces a truly haunting quasi-ballad featuring Bruce’s piercing shrieks and some truly frightening lyrics: “Now it’s burning his hands/he’s turning to laugh/smiles as the flame sears his flesh/melting his face, screaming in pain/peeling the skin from his eyes.”

“The Prisoner “ calls for “information” in a speed metal tour-de-force with a gloriously catchy chorus. Next, the anti-prostitution-themed “22 Acacia Avenue” obliterates with searing alacrity and devastating lyrical bite.

Side Two gives us the brutally classic juggernaut of a title track, the galloping, cheery and infectious “Run to the Hills,” along with the epic and now ubiquitous ode to a condemned convict in “Hallowed Be Thy Name.” Even the mostly-ignored “Gangland” delivers an entertaining, albeit brief dose of melodic speed metal. It was all so emotionally powerful, so majestic, so bombastically brilliant, so utterly perfect.

My life certainly never was the same afterwards. How about yours?–Jonathan Kollnot

–Original U.S. Tracklisting: 1.) Invaders 2.) Children of the Damned 3.) The Prisoner 4.) 22, Acacia Avenue 5.) The Number of the Beast 6.) Run to the Hills 7.) Gangland 8.) Hallowed Be Thy Name

In other news, German thrashers Destruction have re-signed with their old label, Nuclear Blast. I’m not extremely familiar with this band, other than their solid Release From Agony platter from 1988, but it’s nice to see all these classic thrash bands still at it. I am intrigued to hear more from Schmier and co…

That’s all for now from sunny West Michigan. I have some more album reviews up my sleeve for the coming days. As always, keep it loud and proud!–Jonathan Kollnot