The X Factor (Iron Maiden, 1995)

When you are a metal band, generally the grim, messed-up problems of the world are a frequent lyrical topic, usually accompanied by very grim music. Welcome then, to the Grimmest Album, Iron Maiden's 71-minute dirge, The X Factor.

The X Factor is the perfect storm in a generally miserable chapter of the band's extensive history. Everybody knew in 1994 that the band would be changing following the departure of the iconic frontman Bruce Dickinson. In fact, my friend and I were openly speculating that Paul Di'Anno would return to the band (which is hindsight was a ridiculous notion). A lot of others were listing off their preferred all-star vocalists, such as Michael Kiske (plausible) or David Coverdale (not likely!). So basically everyone was disappointed when the role was given to Blaze Bayley of Wolfsbane. It was like replacing Luciano Pavarotti with Derek Zoolander.

All right, maybe that's a little harsh. The truth was there was a lot more going on than a change of singer. Behind the scenes, producer Martin Birch had retired, leaving the band a little confused about where to turn for expect production guidance. Also, Steve Harris, bassist and founder, was seizing the reins more tightly than ever, especially in writing and production. In fact, a mere three songs on the last six albums have not listed him as co-author or solo author. Normally not something in itself to worry about, seeing that during the 1980's his name was on almost all of their most iconic songs, but life was a little rough for Steve, weathering a lot of personal issues. This ended up being expressed in some of the most lyrically dark areas the band ever dared venture into, most notably "Blood on the World's Hands" in which he seems utterly resigned to the horrors of the world and wondering how anyone, especially children, could endure them.

The rest of the band seems a little wooden as well, with the drums and guitars stuck in a bit of metal-by-numbers, but also working in an uncomfortable structure of slow, quiet beginnings and ends surrounding lumbering, ponderous songs. In fact, only Blaze, who is probably still shocked by his unexpected rise from obscurity, is really giving it his all. It seems a shame that the one time he really shines (this album), the rest of the band seems to be wallowing in a thick fog of depression. He would squander this opportunity on the next album, Virtual XI, featuring a somewhat re-invigorated band, but a hopelessly wooden vocalist.