"Woe to you, Oh Earth and Sea,
for the Devil sends the beast with wrath, because he knows the time is short...
Let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the beast -
for it is a human number, its number is Six hundred and sixty-six."
To me, the above quote is the essence of my metal listening life. The opening recital of the classic Maiden song “The Number of the Beast” will always and forever send shivers of delight down my spine, and also never fails to push me backwards into the pool of metal memories past with a big grin on my face.
My earliest metal memory is precisely that… this very album. More specifically, the cover of this album on a shelf in the record store Bokman in Helsingborg on a rainy day in 1982. I was there trying to find an Elvis Presley album I didn’t already have. Something my father had failed to provide me with for my birthday present a few months earlier, and had instead given me a Dolly Parton album I didn’t want. Sure, she had big boobs, but I was just ten years old and didn’t really ponder the significance of such things much back then. I was standing there in the aisle, nervously fidgeting a Shakin’ Stevens album I was considering getting instead of the exchanged Parton vinyl, but it was kinda boring, you know… I already knew most of the songs on it, and besides, Stevens had never really managed to follow up the excellent “Mona Lisa” with later releases. (You can tell I was a real rock’n’roll connoisseur already at that tender age, huh?)
I turned around to walk up to my dad when I saw it. It! The Beast. Eddie. Right there on the cover of some metal album; a beast holding out his hand over the Devil below. There were fires and demons and all sorts of mayhem going on and it appealed a whole lot to my ten year old self. Hell, it still appeals to my 34-year old self as well. I grabbed it without thinking twice and shoved it into my father’s hands; “Here, dad. This is it.” He looked at me rather skeptically, but didn’t say anything. He was always cool like that. The second I got home I threw it on, and I have banged my head ever since - going on 24 years as a bona fide metal head now.
The album still stands the test of time.
I know that my dear friend and DRS colleague OD has nominated one of his favorite albums, Slayer’s “Reign in Blood”, for today’s pick of 6/6/6, but I beg to differ. This is the quintessential 666 album, in every shape, sense and form.
The cover alone is magnificent. This was back when you knew who painted such things as covers (Derek Riggs), who took the pics of the band (Ross Halfin) and when things like that mattered. Of course, this was back when album covers were the sizes of dinner plates and you could actually afford to put some work into it. This was the Age of Album Artworks, and Eddie was the Supreme Ruler from horizon to horizon. Look at that denim and t-shirt wearing monster puppeteering the Devil himself, to make the son of Man dance in his turn. Look at the people burning in the pits of hell in the background. You can make out people fucking in the black silhouette shadowplays. There are flying demons, devils with pitchforks and thunder and lightning. Fucking fantastic. 666 in all its motherfucking infernal glory. The Beast has arrived.
And the music?
Even better…
From the opening staccato drumming of the highly underrated “Invaders” we know we’re onto Metal History here. This is the mold from which hundreds upon thousands of bands have been cast since, but not a single one has managed to copy. Maiden shows already in this rather typical song - about the Viking invasion - some serious technical prowess that bands like Fates Warning and Dream Theater have since perfected and made unique careers out of. Note the bass. This was before Steve Harris started playing with all four fingers like some palsy ridden waffle-pawed epileptic, and here stuck to playing with only two fingers, thus not muddifying the sound as much as on later releases. The rhythm section is tight as a goddamn drum.
Speaking of drums… Clive Burr was magnificent in Maiden. Perhaps in some aspects considered a simpler and more straightforward drummer than Nicko, but let not the simplistic approach fool you. Clive Burr had more rhythm in his foreskin than Nicko has in his whole Lurch-like body. The drum patterns on this album are perfect – a study in the absolute highest school of progressive rock and metal drumming, stripped down to the bare bones of what makes the beat pop. The kicks perfectly accentuate Steve’s busy bass without fluttering. The snare lands on that fragment of a micro second after it is “supposed to”, lending a few extra “fictitious” pounds of heaviness to songs that nowadays sound rather light when Nicko plays them live. The toms are old school in their fills, but inevitably add to the beat by being ever so tastefully incorporated into the main theme. The cymbal/kick-stops are heartbreaking in their precision and the hi-hat flurries are amazing. I know it sounds gay but take a minute and listen to Clive’s drumming next time you put this baby in the car stereo… It really is a most significant detail to why this album made it into the Metal Hall of Fame.
The twin guitar harmonies of Adrian Smith and Dave Murray really came together on this release and subsequently spawned a whole new genre of metal, or perhaps two: Power Metal and Speed Metal. Forget the crude and sloppy playing of KK Downing and Glen Tipton of Priest fame – this is the crème de la creme as far as twin guitars go; one always trading off the other - perpetually, ingeniously, symbiotically and utterly perfect.
And then of course we have Bruce. This was his debut album with Maiden and he is probably the most successful replacement singer in Metal History. He brought a more theatrical quality to Maiden’s dark lyrical themes as he really strived to act out the words in the songs, convincing the listener that the message was the real deal. He is desperate when he needs to sound desperate, furious when that is called for, grim in the darker passages and howling like a crack-banshee at the end of choruses. Paul DiAnno had been good for Maiden’s early days, but his punk rock approach didn’t fit in with the more complex and majestic epics Maiden came to rely on as the meat and potatoes of their musical career later on. The switch was all good.
“The Number of the Beast” is all classic. All the good songs are here:
“Children of the Damned” – Back when ballads didn’t necessarily mean you dressed like a fag and cried in the video. A slow dark song, based on the 60’s movie with the same name, that slowly progresses into a heavier and more fast-paced song- ultimately painting a picture of the protagonist fighting an evil battle against humanity and dying in the end.
“The Prisoner” – Remember the old British TV Show? Nah, me neither, but the song fucking rocks. A huge opening, with the dry dialogue and the hollow beat, propels the song into a defiant metal anthem that sets the tone for the rest of the album. I wish they played this song live more often.
“22 Acacia Avenue” – The Tale of a Whore and her Woes. The old tart Charlotte the Harlot was the subject matter of a song on the very first Maiden album and here she gets to come back for a quality repeat offense. Its one of the best guitar driven songs of Maiden’s career and it subtly carries the sneaky Adrian trademark with its off beat skips. I totally didn’t get what the hell this song was all about when I was ten, but that didn’t stop me from hollering down the street: “Beat her, mistreat her, do anything that you please. Bite her, excite her, make her get down on her knees. Abuse her, misuse her, she can take all that you’ve got! Caress her, molest her - she always does what you waaaaaaannnnt!”
“The Number of the Beast” – I get all fuzzy and warm when I hear this one. I could probably recite the lyrics to this song on my deathbed at 90, sporting full blown dementia and an amputated tongue. Most people never realize how hard this song is to play until they try to cover it with their shitty little metal band. The beat is 9/8 and then 4/4 and then back to 9/8 again. Fucked up as hell when you’re 12 and get a nosebleed trying to hang on to the main idea with your $45 Hondo guitar. Still makes for the most memorable of all Maiden’s metal classics. The way Bruce accentuates “666” in the chorus gets me lighting black candles every time.
“Run to the Hills” – Another song trademarked by Clive’s innovative drumming. How many songs do you know, period, that you can pin by the opening drum beat alone? Not many, but on this album you have three! This was, again, back in the day when such things as riffs mattered – be they in shape of guitars, bass or drums. Nowadays your ADD-addled ass is just hurled into mid song so you get your full $1 action per minute ratio value at iTunes.
“Gangland” – The most forgotten and underrated of all Maiden’s songs, and, ironical enough, one of the best tracks on the album. Pummeling drums and an overly simplistic guitar take us on a journey to the criminal netherworlds of London in the 60’s. Clive Burr and Adrian wrote it and Maiden has never played it live (to the best of my knowledge). The bridge is great with its Brucesquely melodic vocal line. Something that would have been impossible with DiAnno.
“Hallowed Be Thy Name” – The Epic. The song that perhaps defines and personifies Maiden, in the sense that it features everything that makes them so great as a band. It has the slow brooding passage, it has the instrumental parts, it has the fast unforgiving fury of the patented Maiden gallop and it naturally also has the intelligent lyrical theme.
What? No I didn’t skip any songs. “Total Eclipse!” you say with a quivering lower lip. Hmmm… I guess you’re one of those late comers that either jumped on the Maiden band wagon when they finally made it big in America in the very late 80’s, or was born in the age of the Compact Disc. Why? Well, since the old single B-side “Total Eclipse” was a hastily added bonus track on the CD release of the album it doesn’t really count, and just exposes you for the wet-eared Maiden fan you really are. Not that there is anything wrong with being inferior to me. Not at all. One could say “inevitable”, I guess.
And thus ends the greatest metal album of all time… Well, after “Abigail”, of course… but since King Diamond (the band) pretty much based its musical existence and formula on “The Number of the Beast” maybe we could call it a draw.
Fun fact for all us nerds: After the rather troublesome recording of this album was painstakingly finalized, producer Martin Birch backed out his car into the street - meaning to go to the pub to celebrate that the ordeal was over - and rammed a bus full of nuns. The bill for the damages came to 666 quids! No shit. Birch refused to pay the amount and it was adjusted to 667 pounds instead.
Happy 6/ 6/ 6, kids.
"The Number of the Beast"
by
Iron Maiden
(A Special 6/6/6 Tribute to Metal, Childhood
and all that other good stuff)
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~ The Red Collar Report ~
