Blind Guardian: Beyond The Red Mirror

BLIND GUARDIAN: BEYOND THE RED MIRROR (2015)

1) The Ninth Wave; 2) Twilight Of The Gods; 3) Prophecies; 4) At The Edge Of Time; 5) Ashes Of Eternity; 6) The Holy Grail; 7) The Throne; 8) Sacred Mind; 9) Miracle Machine; 10) Grand Parade.

Now look, this isn't even funny any more. Not only have they already used the word «beyond» in at least one of their album titles and the word «mirror» in at least several of their songs ("mirror mirror on the wall..."), but I think that every word and idiomatic combination in these titles, if not in the entire lyrics, had already been commissioned by our fantasy friends sometime in the past. Unsurprisingly, pretty much the same can be said about the music. And it took them, what, a whole five years? To come up with an album that, maybe more than anything they did in their career, sounds like a barely noticeable rearrangement of the same jigsaw puzzle?..

At the very, very least, they could have followed up on the success of ʽSacred Worldsʼ and ʽWheel Of Timeʼ, two tracks where the mix of guitar metal and orchestration seemed to open up a whole new world of possibilities to explore and exploit. But with Beyond The Red Mirror, it's as if those two songs were never written — as if they admitted to themselves that this was a failed experiment. What happened? Did the money run out? No, it did not, because there is an orchestra here — in fact, there are two: Hungarian Studio Orchestra Budapest and FILMHarmonic Orches­tra Prague (the latter is the same one that was used for ʽSacred Worldsʼ). Did they commission research on fanboard opinions, and come to the conclusion that use of the orchestra was «lame» and that it «sissified» their sound or something?

I have no idea, but the fact is, that we are generally back to square here: vocals, guitars, key­boards, pound pound pound, stern martial chorus of Elven warriors who prefer their battles over their ladies, everything mega-powerful, ultra-melodic, algorithmically predictable, and immedi­ately forgettable. If there is at least a shadow of some new idea here, it is the use of a baroque choir on the introduction to ʽThe Ninth Waveʼ — I think that previously, all of the harmonies were done by the band members themselves, but here they went for a fuller approach. Not that the use of such choirs in metal should come as a surprise, either, and with the song itself so unremar­kable on the whole, the stern religious harmonies hardly add any awesomeness.

According to what my ears tell me, this album does not contain a single memorable riff or a single truly impressive vocal chorus. The reasons for this could be technical: for instance, when they finally get to ʽGrand Paradeʼ, obviously intended as a grand finale, the chorus is completely ruined by flat production where the vocals, the orches­tration, and the choir merge together in a muffled, sloppy mush that feels completely mechanical and soulless, neither tragic nor joyful nor endowed with any emotion, just big-big-big. So, perhaps, bad production and dynamic overcom­pression are to blame. But this hardly settles things: even without the poor production, this is a sleepwalker's album, riding along on years and decades of accumulated experience and professio­nalism and not a drop of actual inspiration.

But then, who cares? I have seen so many rave re­views by newly fascinated fans that it is quite clear — they can remake the same record fifty more times and still not worry about their not-particularly-demanding fanbase. And I really al­most literally mean «remake the same record»: this here regurgitation is worse than yer basic AC/DC, because at least with the Young brothers, it is the riffs that count, and every time they set out to make a new album, they know they have to present some new «skeletal structures» (and if there are too many recycled riffs on an AC/DC album, it is by definition an unsatisfactory AC/DC album) — whereas with these Blind Guardian records, the denseness of the arrangements, the orchestrations, Hansi's mammoth vocals all mask the «skeletal structure» and make it look insignificant next to the overall style of the presentation. And that style never changes. And these are the rules of the game, I know, but I also know that not every metal band is necessarily supposed to abide by these rules, and if you do not know how to bend them or at least how to make them serve a good purpose, too bad. Thumbs down.

Blind Guardian: At The Edge Of Time

BLIND GUARDIAN: AT THE EDGE OF TIME (2010)

1) Sacred Worlds; 2) Tanelorn; 3) Road Of No Release; 4) Ride Into Obsession; 5) Curse My Name; 6) Valkyries; 7) Control The Divine; 8) War Of The Thrones; 9) A Voice In The Dark; 10) Wheel Of Time.

I have little personal interest in playing Sacred 2: Fallen Angel (RPGs have never been a favorite genre of mine — adventure games were always more like it), but I guess we have to thank its de­signers all the same for giving a much needed shot in the arm to Blind Guardian. The one track they recorded for it, ʽSacred Worldsʼ, is arguably their best composition in years, if not in a whole decade or so: not just an «epic» track (all of their tracks are epic), but a full-blown power monster, replete with complex and highly dynamic orchestration — provided, for once, by a real orchestra. And it frickin' works!

First, the strings and horns prepare the setting in a mock-mixture of quasi-Strauss and quasi-Shostakovich, then the band gradually begins to take over with the rhythm section and the metal chugga-chugga, and then they kind of sort it out with the orchestra over the next seven minutes, in perfect balance with each other. It does not have a perfect particu­lar hook or an arch-memorable theme, but that is not necessary — all you have to do is admire how the orchestra meshes with the band. Without the orchestra, the song could have been as boring as anything on Twist In The Myth, and without the band, the orchestral parts would have been just passable imitations of the greats, but together, they truly raise the bar on epicness, and ʽSacred Worldsʼ should rank up there along with Therion as far as «symphonic metal» is concerned (and is cer­tainly better than anything Nightwish ever did).

Alas, the incentive was not strong enough (or, perhaps more likely, the budget was not large enough) to retain the orchestra for the entire album — it only comes back one more time to close off the album with ʽWheel Of Timeʼ, this time with a decisively Eastern twist to it (there is a lengthy instrumental passage in the middle to which you could belly-dance if you got the sudden urge), and again, quite interesting composition-wise. In between these two lengthy mini-suites, though, what you get is standard Blind Guardian fare — eight more power stompers, very little about which can be described as «innovative» in any sense of the word.

I do have to admit that some of them feel a bit «stronger» — for instance, even though ʽTanelornʼ is already their second song about Tanelorn, its chugging riff produces a more efficient brain­shaking wave than anything on the previous album, and the song's coda, with a mad over-the-cliff rush to the final chord, kicks ass quite explicitly. But on the other hand, I also have a nagging sus­picion that it is simply the electrification caused by ʽSacred Worldsʼ that gets inductively exten­ded onto several following tracks that gets me so excited. Who knows?

On a different note, one curious moment of confusion arrives when you realize that the main riff of ʽControl The Divineʼ is taken, almost note-for-note, from the Animals' classic version of ʽDon't Let Me Be Misunderstoodʼ — coincidence? subconscious adaptation? intentional rip-off? it's not as if they were running out of their own riffs, because they had been masters of unmemo­rable riffs for quite a while already, it would have been no problem to supply a bunch more. Then again, they had always been big fans of «classic rock», from the Beach Boys to Queen, so adapting a bit of the old gold is in the line of duty, and it's probably better than covering the song anyway (for a pretty cheesy metal cover, check out Gary Moore's version).

In any case, the opening and closing tracks alone make this whole experience such an undeniable improvement on Twist that the album has to be supported with a thumbs up, also because in all other respects it does not let you down, either — power, volume, monster riffage, and classic Hansi vocals that show no signs of age-based deterioration whatsoever. One might, of course, find the idea of «orchestrated Blind Guardian» too insulting for their brawny metallic power, but that power had long since been dissipated anyway, and if you ask me, the orchestra here helps them consolidate the power once again, rather than wipe away the last traces of it. Besides, it does not happen too often when an orchestra and a rock band manage to understand each other so perfectly (remember Deep Purple?), so count me really happy on this one.

Blind Guardian: A Twist In The Myth

BLIND GUARDIAN: A TWIST IN THE MYTH (2006)

1) This Will Never End; 2) Otherland; 3) Turn The Page; 4) Fly; 5) Carry The Blessed Home; 6) Another Stranger Me; 7) Straight Through The Mirror; 8) Lionheart; 9) Skalds & Shadows; 10) The Edge; 11) The New Order.

Damn those misleading, conflicting titles. Throughout the entire duration of the album, I was waiting and waiting for a «twist» — instead, I should have gotten the authentic clue from the title of the first song, ʽThis Will Never Endʼ. A Twist In The Myth is basically just A Night At The Opera, Vol. 2, and considering how monotonous the first installation was, you'd have to be in­curably idealistic to expect any major shifts from the second. If anything, it is even smoother and less involving: producer Charlie Bauerfeind, despite a strong reputation (he had been working with the band since Nightfall, and he was also responsible for producing all of Angra's best al­bums), «muffles» and overcompresses the sound more and more with each next record — not that «raw» production would help a lot in making these songs more memorable.

I'd say that, by this time, the most useful thing about Blind Guardian albums is the insane amount of unpredictable influences on Hansi's metallic mind — you can pretty much use them as a per­sonal guide into the complex twisted world of fantasy. For instance, the first track here was writ­ten courtesy of Walter Moers' novel A Wild Ride Through The Night, in which the author creates a mythological biography for Gustave Doré as a young boy whose task is to defy Death itself: I had no idea that anything of the sort existed, and now my knowledge is enriched by the expe­rience (not that I'm running to my local library or anything), and, well, I suppose that the song's maniacal tempo and Hansi's banshee screaming on some of the verses are in accordance with the «young hero vs. Death» motive, even if the song itself has nothing in the way of a properly memorable memory (just a generic chugga-chugga thrash theme for a basic pattern).

ʽFlyʼ refers to Peter Pan and Finding Neverland — not the first reference to the subject in Blind Guardian history, but the most direct one; the song's chorus is one of the album's minor highlights (there is something about Hansi's "I'll teach you how to fly then..." that, for a brief second, tricks me into thinking of him in PeterPanish terms indeed), although the main melody has as much to do with Neverland as a Wall Street contract, not to mention the silly dinky keyboards that chee­sify the proceedings even further. Why do they have to employ these stupid synthesizer paterns over and over again? Why not harps, or mandolins, or didgeridoos?.. Are they on such a tight budget, or do they mean that they really enjoy those sounds?

Other than an occasionally slowed down anthem with Celtic motives and bagpipes (ʽCarry The Blessed Homeʼ), or a generic medievalistic acoustic ballad (ʽSkalds & Shadowsʼ), the songs are so much interchangeable throughout that continuing this review is as painful as it is senseless. I give the record a certified thumbs down of the «eaten up by their own formula» variety, and invite you to make your own musical analysis if fantasy-based power metal is your personal cup of tea and you are prone to sudden fits of humming ʽOtherlandʼ in the shower. Myself, I'd not re­fuse a little bit of actual «progress», otherwise what incentive is there for writing album reviews in the first place?

Blind Guardian: Live

BLIND GUARDIAN: LIVE (2003)

1) War Of Wrath; 2) Into The Storm; 3) Welcome To Dying; 4) Nightfall; 5) The Script For My Requiem; 6) Harvest Of Sorrow; 7) The Soulforged; 8) Valhalla; 9) Majesty; 10) Mordred's Song; 11) Born In A Mourning Hall; 12) Under The Ice; 13) Bright Eyes; 14) Punishment Divine; 15) The Bard's Song; 16) Imaginations From The Other Side; 17) Lost In The Twilight Hall; 18) A Past And Future Secret; 19) Time Stands Still; 20) Journey Through The Dark; 21) Lord Of The Rings; 22) Mirror Mirror.

Tokyo Tales were clearly not enough. Released way back when (at a time when Blind Guardian were still more of a «metal» band than the resplendent kings of musical fantasy), clocking in at a measly 72 minutes, long out of print (in fact, even its original distribution was mostly limited to Japan itself and the band's native Germany)... all in all, no way to reflect the glorious legacy of the most majestic minstrels of Middle-Earth.

So, I guess we all saw this one coming: a mega-arch-sprawling (over 130 minutes of sound!), hyper-poly-bombastic double live album that summarizes all of Blind Guardian's best and worst sides. Actually, since Blind Guardian only really have one side, this makes it their best and worst at the same time — and there is no need to tell you that all of these performances are fairly pre­dic­table, and that the album is mainly for the fans. In fact, it is very much for the fans: in its ar­dor to loyally represent the atmosphere at a Blind Guardian, a large chunk of the content (I'd say, not less than 15-20 minutes out of 130) consists of nothing but audience noises — applause, cheering, chanting, olé-olé-ing, and singing along. Yes, you too will be impressed by the level of adoration these guys hold for Blind Guardian when you will hear them loudly echoing every single word of the Morgoth/Sauron dialog that opens the show over loudspeakers (ʽWar Of Wrathʼ) — "I RE­LEASE THEE, GO! MY SERVANT YOU'LL BE FOR ALL TIME!" Quite staggering publicity for The Silmarillion, in fact.

Naturally, there is also a lot of fan interaction, conducted by Hansi in different languages, since the album was recorded all over the place (Italy, Spain, Germany, Japan again, etc.), which ex­plains why he keeps confusingly switching from Italian to English and then to German for the last big chunk of the show. Other than that, the tracks are tacked together quite coherently — the al­bum does not have a particularly disjointed feel, as some other hastily cobbled together live re­cords sometimes have — but this coherence may, of course, be also explained by the simple fact that... shh... come closer... all the songs sound the same, don't they?

If you feel bad about orchestration on Blind Guardian studio records, you are in for a pleasant treat: other than Michael Schüren on keyboards, the band is on too limited a budget to drag a whole orchestra around the world, which forces them to concentrate more on performing their songs as tight, compact metal anthems. Additionally, back-to-back comparison shows that, in a live setting, Olbrich consistently chooses more shrill, sharp, aggressive lead guitar tones than the comparatively smoother, glossier equivalents in the studio. So I do admit that the sound is, indeed, more «raw» on the stage: for old-school fans who had pretty much given up on Blind Guardian for their betrayal of «metal roots», this can be a stimulating boost to check out the record.

Setlist-wise, only the band's first two albums are side-stepped (with the usual exception of setlist mainstays ʽMajestyʼ and ʽValhallaʼ, respectively) — everything else is represented quite demo­cratically, with no special emphasis on the then-currently-promoted Night At The Opera (for­tunately for us all, since I am still not convinced, even with all the extra rawness, that there is anything worth remembering about ʽPunishment Divineʼ). Of course, they could have easily crammed in two or three extra highlights at the expense of some lengthy periods of crowd noise, but it is quite likely that they included their entire setlist for the tour anyway.

Hansi, now free from his bass-playing duties (Oliver Holzwarth covers those, just as he now does in the studio), is in perfect vocal form throughout, although I would not say that being liberated from the extra weight of bass guitar has significantly improved his ability to stay on key or any­thing — perhaps he had simply decided that proper impersonations of Morgoth, Mordred, and More Morbid Morons come off better when the impersonator is free from the obligation to fiddle about with a musical instrument. (Then again, what kind of an instrument would the real Morgoth have played if he had to choose? Bass guitar seems like the obvious answer). Olbrich, as I said, shines throughout, free to flash his instrument high in the mix whenever he gets the chance, and the rhythm section is expectably impeccable.

All this is enough to hand out a surefire thumbs up rating, despite a few weak songs and these irritatingly long periods of having to listen to all them fans chant "Guar-dian! Guar-dian! Guar-dian!", as if they were a bunch of hungry prison inmates or something. But even that irritation, I guess, is in the line of duty when it comes to «metal royalty» like Blind Guardian.

Blind Guardian: A Night At The Opera

BLIND GUARDIAN: A NIGHT AT THE OPERA (2002)

1) Precious Jerusalem; 2) Battlefield; 3) Under The Ice; 4) Sadly Sings Destiny; 5) The Maiden And The Minstrel Knight; 6) Wait For An Answer; 7) The Soulforged; 8) Age Of False Innocence; 9) Punishment Divine; 10) And Then There Was Silence.

Come to think of it, every night with Blind Guardian is like a night at the opera, isn't it? With all that wealth of grand fantasy spectacles they had accumulated by the end of the millennium, the collective repertoire could very well lay claim to its own frickin' Bayreuth Festival. And there is little use in reminding yourself of all the previous people who had used that title, either, be it Queen or the Marx Brothers, because there is no connection whatsoever other than the very idea of a «grand» effect upon the listeners. And if you thought that, perhaps, the Marx Brothers asso­ciation suggests that Blind Guardian have finally begun to take themselves with a grain of salt and a modicum of self-irony — well, Judas Priest have a classic rock recommendation for you.

Although there is no such serious conceptual unity this time as there was on Nightfall In Middle-Earth, for the most part, the album still revolves around a set topical field — mythology, both pagan and Christian, and, to a lesser extent, history, rather than fantasy (only ʽWait For An An­swerʼ, based on Kürsch's own fictional tale, and ʽThe Soulforgedʼ, based on Dragonlance, con­stitute exceptions). If anything, this helps justify the band's position in preserving the grand-epic style of Nightfall — once again, the emphasis is squarely put on «power» and «pomp» rather than heaviness. When it's all over for the first time, what you are going to remember is not the metal riffs, but the huger-than-life choruses, most of which explicitly remind you of the fact that «chorus» and «choir» are originally the same word after all.

Here is a funny trivia tidbit that is not so much typical of the record as symbolic: the very first track, ʽPrecious Jerusalemʼ (as far as I know, marking the first appearance of JC himself as the protagonist of a Blind Guardian fantasy), contains a transparent musical reference to Jesus Christ Superstar — the "risin' up from the heart of the desert, risin' up for Jerusalem" passage brings to mind both the "when do we ride into Jerusalem?" and "roll on up Jerusalem" melodic phrasings from the Andrew Lloyd Webber opera, even if the rest of the song has nothing to do with Sir Andrew, being instead cast in the usual power metal mold. Still, this obvious link with the old art of «rock opera» is quite telling. No wonder the band's original drummer, Thomas Stauch, quit after the album was completed — even within the Blind Guardian camp, not every­body was satisfied with the way things were turning out.

Still, the balance between keyboards, orchestrations, and choral vocals, on one hand, and heavy riffs and blazing electric guitar solos, on the other, seems quite intelligently handled to me. There are a couple «power ballads» here, like ʽThe Maiden And The Minstrel Knightʼ (how come Blackmore's Night have not covered that one yet?), where the balance predictably tilts towards the «light» instrumentation, but this is justifiable — a ballad is a ballad, after all — and besides, the song has the most memorable chorus on the entire album. In anybody else's hands, the mock-Wagnerian solemnity of the choral "will you still wait for me, will you still cry for me" and Hansi's throat-ripping retort of "come and take my haaaaaand!" would just look ridiculous, but these guys now have such a long history of «going all the way to eleven» that it is hard not to get overwhelmed by the results. (Just play 'em real loud, or else you violate the rules of the game).

On the other hand, songs like ʽUnder The Iceʼ, ʽSadly Sings Destinyʼ, ʽThe Soulforgedʼ, and some others formally preserve the core of the Blind Guardian sound. There is an obligatory chugga-chugga thrashing riff, and a thick, melodic, sometimes multi-tracked, often wah-wah-enhanced lead guitar part that are loud enough in the mix so as not to allow themselves to be drowned out in an ocean of keyboards, strings, or choral vocals. And it's not as if the drummer had anything to complain about on his behalf — the tempos are consistently fast and give him all the usual conditions to exercise the traditional sledgehammering style.

The basic problem is the usual one — monotony. After a short while, as the hilarious quotation from JCS fades into history, the songs inevitably begin blending and melding with each other, and this time around, there are no storytelling links to keep them apart. In small doses, the album is perfectly palatable, but you'd really have to be an iron man to sit through this «night at the opera» in one go and get sixty-seven minute of incessant kicks out of it. (Predicting the possible question, yes, this «opera» is far more melodically monotonous and emotionally single-routed than any good classical opera — among other things, Blind Guardian are totally unfamiliar with the principle of crescendo, which they replace with the principle of «and now... switch on THE POWER!!!!!»).

The worst is saved for last: a fourteen-minute epic (ʽAnd Then There Was Si­lenceʼ) about the fate of Cassandra, which somehow feels longer than the entire first act of Ber­lioz's Les Troyens — for all of its numerous melodic changes, nothing truly interesting ever happens throughout the song, and I have no idea whatsoever why it needed to be 14 minutes long in the first place. And instead of a proper bang, it ends in... a fadeout, with a corny synthesizer solo striving for orchestral gran­deur? What an embarrassment, really. Without this track, A Night At The Opera could have been poised for at least a minor thumbs up, keeping in mind the unabated energy levels and the cleverness of the instrumental mix and the sheer overwhelming strength of Hansi's vocals. With this track, A Night At The Opera moves dangerously close to a failed experiment — an attempt to outdo themselves in the «grandeur» department without being able to come up with any new substantial trick to successfully complete that attempt.

Blind Guardian: Nightfall In Middle-Earth

BLIND GUARDIAN: NIGHTFALL IN MIDDLE-EARTH (1998)

1) War Of Wrath; 2) Into The Storm; 3) Lammoth; 4) Nightfall; 5) The Minstrel; 6) The Curse Of Feanor; 7) Cap­tured; 8) Blood Tears; 9) Mirror Mirror; 10) Face The Truth; 11) Noldor; 12) Battle Of Sudden Flame; 13) Time Stands Still; 14) The Dark Elf; 15) Thorn; 16) The Eldar; 17) Nom The Wise; 18) When Sorrow Sang; 19) Out On The Water; 20) The Steadfast; 21) A Dark Passage; 22) Final Chapter (Thus Ends...); 23) Harvest Of Sorrow.

Okay, brace yourself: a concept album based on nothing less than a complete (well, actually, nearly complete) version of J. R. R. Tolkien's The Silmarillion — as the chief protectors of the Professor's legacy, Blind Guardian accept nothing less than completeness and perfection. You can look at this as a soundtrack to an imaginary movie, or the score to a non-existent musical, but whatever it is, not since the days of Bo Hansson and his Music Inspired By The Lord Of The Rings has the Professor received such a royal treatment — and this one is almost twice as long as Bo's work, and it isn't merely inspired by the novel, it is a musical re-telling of the novel.

Two British actors were hired to provide the (mercifully brief) narration parts, including actual bits of impersonation of the novel's most colorful hero (Morgoth, of course, for whom Blind Guardian have a special predilection). These are packed into brief spoken links, usually accom­panied with movie-like sound effects, introducing the various songs or simply separating them, and all the songs are highly specific, relating to different events over the course of the First Age, from Morgoth's flight with the Silmarils and right down to the utter defeat of the forces of good by the forces of evil (although, funny enough, all of this is framed by the introductory track as Morgoth reminiscing of his history while standing on the verge of final defeat).

Fans of Blind Guardian usually stand divided over the record, which is no surprise — there are those who love these fanatical Germans for their obsession with fantasy worlds, and then there are those who just love them for all the monster riffs and virtuoso solos and general blood-pum­ping skills. For that second group, Nightfall will be a disappointment: not only does all the spoken material detract from the music, but the music itself is much less «heavy» than it used to be, now placing at least as much emphasis on stately choral harmonies and ornate mock-classical synthesizer flourishes as on heavy guitar phrasing and «brutal» vocal parts. As a symbol of this transition, Kürsch even relinquishes his position as regular bass player for the band: Oliver Holz­warth, while not officially a regular new member of Blind Guardian, joins as his regular session replacement both for studio recordings and live performances.

Personally, I am not quite sure what to think. To be sure, the whole experience smells of cheese, but so does the band in general, and is it even at all possible to make a rock opera based on The Silmarillion that would smell of something else? It would most likely take somebody of a Wag­nerian caliber to achieve the task, and even then it is one thing to put your own personal stamp on a thousand year old mythological tradition, and quite another one to put it on a «simulacre», no matter how high quality. What really bugs me, though, is that if we actually want to put Tolkien to music, Nightfall In Middle-Earth is very far from my personal ideal vision of it. I am not at all sure what that vision is, but it definitely is not Blind Guardian vision.

First and foremost, Blind Guardian are really a power metal band. They are at their best when audializing battle scenes — violence, brutality, clashing swords, stampeding Oliphaunts, what­ever. Consequently, the best realized tracks here are the militaristic ones: ʽTime Stands Still (At The Iron Hill)ʼ, for instance, is a rousing, gripping epic that does convey the spirit of personal combat of an elf warrior against the Lord of Darkness pretty well. Even better is the track that begins it all: ʽInto The Stormʼ, starting the Silmarillion tale from the moment where the bad guys initiate their conquest of Beleriand, fleeing from the light into the dark — no special build-ups or atmospheric introductions, just a straightforward plunge into aggressive frenzy that could illus­trate everything that includes speed, fire, and devastation, from the flight of Morgoth and Ungoliant to the Four Horsemen.

On the other hand, as they get into more psychological details (ʽThe Curse Of Feanorʼ) or into lyrical matters (ʽWhen Sorrow Sangʼ), the limitations of Blind Guardian become obvious: once again, they use exactly the same approach for everything. Eventually, you just lose sense of what is going on — where are the good guys and the bad guys (Kürsch uses pretty much the same vocal style for the Dark Lord Morgoth and the Elven Lord Fëanor, and no, this is not due to an artistic decision to blur the lines between good and evil, which would agree with Tolkien's own storyline, but simply due to the singer's limitations), where are the battles and the peaceful inter­ludes, where are the triumphs and the sufferings. Everything is neutralized.

And this is where the complaints of the «metal camp» fans can be heard, too: the music generally loses much of its «kick-ass» quality, without necessarily compensating for this from the «beauty» angle, because the band is not very good at incorporating medieval folk motives and exquisite baroque synthesizer passages. Their chief musical talent had always been Olbrich, and now he is almost like a bit player in a symphonic ocean, and not a terrifically inspiring at that. Even within a polyphonic production, you'd like to hear individual voices, but there is not a lot of them here. Try and go straight for ʽThe Eldarʼ, one of the few songs on the album to feature a different approach — a mournful piano ballad (with guest star Michael Schüren at the grand piano), where Hansi goes from soft, tragic falsetto to raging scream and back. If the song shakes you to the core, count yourself an altogether well-rounded, properly initiated Blind Guardian fan; but to me, there is too much melodrama, too little in the way of truly interesting melody.

All said, though, ambition alone... no, well, ambition alone probably wouldn't cut it, but ambition coupled with Blind Guardian's pedigree, experience, and professionalism make Nightfall In Middle-Earth a curious artefact. Curious success? Curious failure? That is up to you to decide, but my current opinion — as a Tolkien soundtrack, this is a failure, but as a Tolkien-inspired self-standing musical fantasy, it definitely has its moments. At the very least, as is the standard case for Blind Guardian, nearly each track has its own catchy chorus, so let that be one final argument for a stable thumbs up. I sure wish they'd hire some other guy to impersonate Morgoth, though. Wasn't Christopher Lee a more-than-obvious choice? Or does he dislike Blind Guardian because they're Krauts or something?

Blind Guardian: The Forgotten Tales

BLIND GUARDIAN: THE FORGOTTEN TALES (1996)

1) Mr. Sandman; 2) Surfin' USA; 3) Bright Eyes; 4) Lord Of The Rings; 5) The Wizard; 6) Spread Your Wings; 7) Mordred's Song; 8) Black Chamber; 9) The Bard's Song (live); 10) Barbara Ann/Long Tall Sally; 11) A Past And Future Secret; 12) To France; 13) Theatre Of Pain; 14*) Hallelujah; 15*) Beyond The Realms Of Death; 16*) Don't Talk To Strangers.

This is a «stop-gap» album that, by all accounts, only deserves a brief mention in passing. As the band were too busy touring, or resting, or preparing for a properly epic follow-up to Imagina­tions (check all pertinent options), they put out this odds-and-sods compilation, about half of which is devoted to acoustic / orchestral rearrangements of their old material, and the other half consists of cover versions of songs by other artists (as far as I understand, collected from different recording sessions and not necessarily recorded specially for this album). Additionally, there is a live performance of ʽThe Bardʼ, the band's signature-campfire-song, on which Hansi very quickly transfers matters into the hands (throats) of the audience. A campfire is a campfire, after all.

There is hardly anything to say about these rearrangements — as a rule, they uncover no hidden depth to the songs, and the bombastic instrumental re-write of ʽTheatre Of Painʼ simply goes to show that Blind Guardian music without the quintessential Blind Guardian elements (heavy guitars and powerhouse vocals) is just boring, like a forgettable soundtrack to one of the Heroes Of Might And Magic installations. Besides, wasn't ʽLord Of The Ringsʼ acoustic (and not very good) in the first place? I think I'd rather prefer a re-arrangement of ʽMajestyʼ with didgeridoo and bagpipes as the sole instruments. Preferably preserving the original tempo.

As for the covers, they display a staggering level of variety — ranging from blatantly «joke» material to some really, really good tributes to some bizarre, but not utterly nonsensical, choices. ʽSurfin' USAʼ and a medley of ʽBarbara Annʼ with ʽLong Tall Sallyʼ clearly fall in the «joke» category (see what happens when you replace surf guitar with power metal guitar), although ʽMr. Sandmanʼ takes first prize in this department — starting out in full-fledged music hall mode, then gradually picking up steam and finally grinding it out, vocal-wise and guitar-wise, as it rushes towards the madhouse conclusion. Mike Oldfield's ʽTo Franceʼ is overproduced, and the vocals peek out from under the dense mix in a manner that pretty much kills the song (whose major hook had been provided by the clear ring of Maggie Reilly's vocal cords). ʽThe Wizardʼ, unfor­tunately, is the Uriah Heep song, not the Black Sabbath one, but you probably already guessed that (Sabbath are way too «earthy» and «grounded» for Blind Guardian to latch on to them pro­perly, unless we are talking the Dio years).

The single best choice is unquestionably the cover of Queen's ʽSpread Your Wingsʼ, but I have already talked about it (as a bonus track) in one of the previous reviews, so no need repeating that. Actually, Forgotten Tales has some bonus tracks, too, of which ʽHallelujahʼ pales next to the Deep Purple version: much as I like Kürsch, he is not capable of giving it the soulful, heart­breaking vibe that Ian Gillan was so capable of in his «Jesus Christ years». Much better is the cover of Dio's ʽDon't Talk To Strangersʼ, but, again, here you will have to decide according to your own preferences: Kürsch belongs to the same class of singers as Ronnie, yet to my ears, Ronnie still appears as the more versatile and «emotionally dynamic» of the two, even if he does not eat nearly as much iron as Hansi for breakfast.

All said, unless you are a major adept, do not pay attention to the pretty album cover, so similar to all the other pretty album covers by Blind Guardian, and do pay attention to the title: there is an actual reason to why these particular «tales» are «forgotten». And given that some of these songs are now available as bonus tracks to other releases, this decreases the incentive for owning the record separately to an even further degree. Harmless fun, though, on the whole. 

Blind Guardian: Imaginations From The Other Side

BLIND GUARDIAN: IMAGINATIONS FROM THE OTHER SIDE (1995)

1) Imaginations From The Other Side; 2) I'm Alive; 3) A Past And Future Secret; 4) The Script For My Requiem; 5) Mordred's Song; 6) Born In A Mourning Hall; 7) Bright Eyes; 8) Another Holy War; 9) And The Story Ends.

If you are not deeply entrenched in the intricacies of the various sub-varieties of heavy metal, you will probably feel that what separates Imaginations from earlier Blind Guardian can be summed up as «small details, shades, and nuances». A bit of a slower tempo here, a bit of a choral over­dub there, same old story on the larger scale. But go visit a Blind Guardian discussion board, and every now and then you will be able to come across a flame war between «speed metal fans» and «power metal fans», extolling the relative crimes against taste or leaps forward in creativity that the band has committed while making the transition to a whole new era.

As far as I am concerned, «ideologically» this new outburst of creative energy from the world's most ardent «don't-mess-with-my-fantasy-world» musical sect is as orthodox as orthodox can be. Nine more epic tunes, brimming with power and arrogance, each based on the already fami­liar artistic strengths of Kürsch and Olbrich, and each dealing with a fantasy theme (sometimes a thick mish-mash of fantasy themes, like the title track). Regarding the factor of speed, only three of the songs are relatively slow in their entirety: the largely acoustic ʽA Past And Future Secretʼ is more «epic folk» than metal altogether, and ʽBright Eyesʼ, along with the grand finale of ʽAnd The Story Endsʼ, could not technically be ascribed to the «speed metal» bin, unless you were cheating and playing them at 78 rpm. The rest, while they do accumulate stylistic «ruffles» that make them more palatable for the «artsy-minded» people, are quite conservative in essence.

If there is any serious change at all, it is to be sought in the melodic structures: even the speedier parts are getting more complex, like the brilliant introduction to ʽBorn In A Mourning Hallʼ that preserves the tempo, but replaces the usual «amelodic» chugga-chugga with a series of riffs that, you know, play actual notes and stuff. I am not quite sure that this represents compositional genius — despite increased complexity, the individual melodies are not specifically evocative — but at least it represents hard work, which, when combined with an energetic punch and sincerity of execution, should be respected.

Perhaps it is also to be sought out in increased ambitions. The title track may have been inten­tionally conceived to be the «ultimate» Blind Guardian visit card — lyrically, it summarizes just about every single one of the band numerous fetishes, and offers an explicit justification for their brand of escapism: "Come follow me to wonderland / And see the tale that never ends... But still I know / There is another world... / I'll break down the walls around my heart / Imaginations from the other side" — an optimistic-nostalgic ode to the «never grow up» mindset. It's like a slightly delayed explanation that they feel they owe the world — delivered to the sounds of one of their most bombastic arrangements up to date. Swirling, swooshing, wailing spirits, church bells, gothic keyboards, monstrous metal riff, operatic vocals with ghostly answers — way too heavy, one could remark, for a song whose primary points of reference are Peter Pan, Alice in Wonder­land, and the Wizard of Oz, but then, nobody said childhood was supposed to be a rose garden, and all these books have their classic moments of brutality.

Another super-bombastic tune is ʽThe Script For My Requiemʼ, where grandiosity begins already with the title and never lets go — "Returning of the miracles / It's my own requiem" is even more solemn than the chorus of ʽQuest For Tanelornʼ, and there is even a quick subtle quotation from Jesus Christ Superstar ("crucify, crucify!") that further raises the stakes. In most people's hands, the song would be totally laughable, but Blind Guardian are the AC/DC of power metal — if you cannot override the clichés of this genre, you can at least ride them faster, louder, and brassier than everybody else in the market, which in itself can be considered overriding.

The rest of the songs, as usual, are too stylistically monotonous to deserve extensive comment, so, instead of that, I will just remark that, on an interesting note, the album was produced by Flem­ming Rasmussen, the co-producer on several of Metallica's classic records of the Eighties — not that Imaginations sounds any more like Metallica than any other Blind Guardian record, but it is curious that the increase in complexity does somewhat parallel Metallica's development from bare-bones thrash to «art-metal». I am not necessarily overjoyed by this, because at a certain level, once you start putting too much «intellect» into heavy metal music, you begin killing off its vitality (Black Sabbath is and will always be the ultimate benchmark for me), but, fortunately for Kürsch and company, they are expanding their musical horizons without sacrificing their inner child — indeed, they glorify their inner child, as is obvious from the title track — and this com­bination of increased compositional smartness with endearing, seemingly honest kiddie silliness works well for Imaginations. Respectfully, a thumbs up. 

Blind Guardian: Tokyo Tales

BLIND GUARDIAN: TOKYO TALES (1993)

1) Inquisition; 2) Banish From Sanctuary; 3) Journey Through The Dark; 4) Traveler In Time; 5) The Quest For Tanelorn; 6) Goodbye My Friend; 7) Time What Is Time; 8) Majesty; 9) Valhalla; 10) Welcome To Dying; 11) Lost In The Twilight Hall; 12) Barbara Ann.

Blind Guardian's first live album is exactly what you'd probably expect of Blind Guardian's first live album — terrific, powerful, energetic, ripping, and completely expendable unless you are capable of putting it on, turning the volume all the way up, closing your eyes, and mentally trans­porting yourself to Koseinenkin Hall in Tokyo, Japan, on the fateful night of December 4, 1992. With several thousand stark-raving-mad Japanese fans accosting you from all sides, singing all of your favorite anthemic choruses in complete unison. Power!!!

But my problem is predictable: there is just no way these here songs could sound more powerful played live than when recorded in the studio. So you get the same mad tempos, the same metal hero vocals, the same super-fluent, intelligently constructed metal-Paganini solos from Olbrich — yes, amazing how they can recreate all that so perfectly-flawlessly on stage and all, but hardly warranting more than one listen. Serious fans will, no doubt, discern and cling on to minor vari­a­tions, yet I have only noticed that they offer a much louder rendition of ʽLord Of The Ringsʼ — electric, with a big drum sound in the climactic finale, and it hardly makes the song any better, though, of course, it is more suitable for an arena setting that way.

The setlist mainly draws upon Tales and Somewhere Far Beyond, with only ʽMajestyʼ retained from the debut album and only ʽBanish From Sanctuaryʼ and ʽValhallaʼ from the second one; it's all okay, although I sort of miss ʽAshes To Ashesʼ and ʽThe Last Candleʼ. Hansi is playing the Big Barbarian Boss for the audience, occasionally encouraging them to join him in his pagan chest vocalising — the effect can be irritating, but that's how you play this game, and at the very least, he does sound like he drinks his enemies' brains right from their freshly cracked skulls at breakfast, so he's a winner at that game regardless of whether you play or not. Nothing to com­plain about in any of those departments, really.

Technically, the album was sewn together from bits of two different shows, so it's a little patchy with all the fade-ins and fade-outs; and the decision to include ʽBarbara Annʼ in their live show might irritate genre purists (I am not irritated, but I do have to remark that if this was a gesture of the «we are really not that serious» variety, it was still a little misplaced — I mean, normally, you either have a sense of humor, in which case it shows up rather regularly in many of the things you do, or you do not have a sense of humor: this «two extra minutes of fun for the sake of proving we can be fun» feels somewhat contrived. Anyway, somehow it worked better in the studio). So these may be minor flaws if you need any. Sound quality, however, is perfect (Tokyo factor strikes again, those Japanese accept nothing less), no flaws here. Oh, and, for the record, if I am not mistaken, the band likes double-tracking their guitars in the studio, so if you dislike that simple trick, here's at least one minor reason to seek out the live versions instead. 

Blind Guardian: Somewhere Far Beyond

BLIND GUARDIAN: SOMEWHERE FAR BEYOND (1992)

1) Time What Is Time; 2) Journey Through The Dark; 3) Black Chamber; 4) Theatre Of Pain; 5) The Quest For Tanelorn; 6) Ashes To Ashes; 7) The Bard's Song: In The Forest; 8) The Bard's Song: The Hobbit; 9) The Piper's Calling; 10) Somewhere Far Beyond.

Not a lot of progression happened in between this album and the previous one: rather, the band just seems so happy with their perfected formula that they try it out one more time, just to see if it all really comes naturally to them now. There is a little more acoustic guitar (in fact, the album opens with an acoustic intro, which is why I remembered), a little more keyboards and additional instruments (including a whole swarm of bagpipes on ʽThe Piper's Callingʼ), but really, these are all just minor nuances: the core of the formula stays sanctified for now.

Under such circumstances, it only makes sense to talk about individually striking songs if they are present, and this is a little more complicated than before — after several listens, only two of them seem to naturally stick around. The ultimate highlight of the album, and one of Blind Guar­dian's greatest ever songs, is ʽAshes To Ashesʼ — ironically, the only song on the album to com­memorate a real event rather than reflect some literary fantasy, namely, the passing of Hansi Kürsch's father. Blind Guardian's major know-how now is all about ensuring a blazing transition from speedy verse to anthemic chorus, and ʽAshes To Ashesʼ totally satisfies: as the group cuts down the maniacal tempo and enters with the solemn "ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." requiem bit, the hand of doom does materialize in the mind — and Kürsch's decisive conclusion of "time... isn't here to stay!" might be one of the single fiercest accappella power metal lines sung in the history of the genre. At the very least, when it comes to power metal, I have yet to hear a more impressive ode to the mercilessness of time in this style.

Other than ʽAshes To Ashesʼ, one more spot where this approach (ride your flash metal train at the speed of light, then smash it right into the solid wall of a stately martial chorus) works very well is ʽThe Quest For Tanelornʼ: lyrically, the song is based on some usual nonsense from Michael Moorcock, but «physically», the transition is pretty mind-blowing, as the band almost ends up transforming itself into Yes for a few bars, before heading back to the surface and con­tinuing the mad mad ride. Unfortunately, the anthemic chorus feels sort of underdeveloped — the line "on our quest for Tanelorn..." is sung with such epic gusto that you almost feel a bit cheated when, several bars later, they just resume the chugga-chugga as if it were all just a dream. Still, the trick works, there's no denying it.

Arrangement-wise, the most bombastic piece on the album is ʽTheatre Of Painʼ, based on Poul Anderson's The Merman's Children — taken at a significantly slower tempo than usual, drenched in orchestra-substituting synthesizers, going through several complex sections and providing Kürsch with a suitable background to properly display all his theatrical capacities: I am still not sure of whether to laugh at the hysterical pathos of "Now I'm gone... and it seems that LIFE HAD NEVER EXISTED!..." or to bow down to its sheer energy, since, after all, I have never sworn allegiance to operatic metal delivery, but then again, this guy really does bring the dial all the way over to eleven, which at least makes this a better proposition than, say, Queensryche.

On the other hand, regular speed monsters such as ʽJourney Through The Darkʼ and the title track fail to do much for me except confirm that I am, indeed, listening to yet another Blind Guardian album. More interesting is the two-part experiment of ʽThe Bardʼ, where the first part is an acous­tic round-the-campfire anthem and the second part is a bombastic metal rocker and they are es­sentially set to the same melody — the experiment has not only earned the band their nickname (ʽThe Bardsʼ), but its second part is probably the heaviest song ever recorded about a hobbit. Still, as a purely musical piece, it is no great shakes, really.

If you get the expanded CD edition of the album, you do get an additional highlight — a magni­ficently sung cover of Queen's ʽSpread Your Wingsʼ, one of those power ballads that I've always liked, because it evokes a genuine feeling of power (and freedom) rather than a fake imitation, and the band offers a very tasteful «metallization» with Kürsch at his very best, adding a bit of guttural roar to the arrogant snappiness he takes over from Freddie's delivery. In fact, sacrilegious as it may seem, I would hardly have anything against Blind Guardian including covers on their original LPs, mixing them with their own compositions (something like that would be forth­coming on The Forgotten Tales, but that one's a compilation of a dubious nature, so it doesn't really count) — they have a good nose for catchy material that they can adapt for their own pur­poses, and the fact that they even did ʽBarbara Annʼ shows that they can be... flexible?

Upon careful consideration, I do give the album a thumbs up. Its passable material is never­theless energetic and listenable, and its highlights, like ʽAshes To Ashesʼ, deserve to be enshrined in the great metal treasury. That said, I have no idea what some people mean when they speak of the band's «great leap forward» — to use a suitable metal analogy, I'd say this is their Piece Of Mind coming right after their Number Of The Beast: a respectable, but not particularly amazing or surprising follow-up to a classic in the same style. 

Blind Guardian: Tales From The Twilight World

BLIND GUARDIAN: TALES FROM THE TWILIGHT WORLD (1990)

1) Traveler In Time; 2) Welcome To Dying; 3) Weird Dreams; 4) Lord Of The Rings; 5) Goodbye My Friend; 6) Lost In The Twilight Hall; 7) Tommyknockers; 8) Altair 4; 9) The Last Candle.

This is where «the legend of Blind Guardian» properly begins — although, frankly speaking, the difference between this album and Battalions Of Fear isn't nearly as huge as you'd think upon reading up on the band's evolution course. Nuance-wise, Tales features a bit more diversity, a tad more choral vocals, a trifle more epic vocals — but the «speed metal» core of the band is still intact, since the majority of these songs are taken at the usual breakneck tempos, and the melodic components are again limited to the songs' vocal melodies and Olbrich's classically influenced guitar leads. Perhaps the conventional wisdom that Tales moves away from «speed» and into «power» has to do with Kürsch's singing, as he tones down the growling elements and emphasi­zes the «tough romantic warrior» approach. Or maybe it is just the contrast with the far more «thrashing» Follow The Blind that preceded it.

Whatever. Genrist discussions aside, Tales is simply a very solid metal album, as solid as starry-eyed fantasy-centered metal albums ever get. This time, the band is all over the place: in addition to Tolkien and Stephen King, literary influences here include Frank Herbert and Peter Straub, not to mention that ʽGoodbye My Friendʼ is said to have been inspired by E.T. (although, frankly, the music would be more fit for Alien), and the last track has something to do with the universe of Dragonlance, something that should probably appeal to D&D fans. In short, these guys take their fantasy roots like real pros, not some chubby amateur who thinks himself a fantasy geek just because he had the nerve to include the word «goblin» in some line or other.

Not that it really matters, because in a world where Paul Atreides, Gandalf, and E.T. speak the exact same language, they could have just as well derived any of their stories from The Catcher In The Rye or The Penal Code Of Pakistan, whichever would be closer at hand. What does matter is that the choruses are their catchiest to date — occasionally in a dumb way, as the chorus to ʽTommyknockersʼ which recreates the nursery rhyme in King's novel ("late last night, and the night before..."), but more often, in an inspiring one.

ʽLost In The Twilight Hallʼ (yes, about Gandalf's wandering in between the worlds of the dead and the living) is a good example — the interaction between the band's choral vocals and Hansi's solo retorts is perfectly staged, with an unforgettable contrast in betwixt the pathos-filled "I'm lost in the twilight hall" and the final doom call of "...that's when the mirror's falling down". Just as memorable are the choruses to ʽWelcome To Dyingʼ and ʽThe Last Candleʼ — indeed, tremen­dously illustrative of what «power» can really mean within a «power metal» setting. Forget sub­tlety, forget nuance, forget emotional fluctuation, forget what all those words that they sing mean, literally or figuratively: it's all about churning out rocket-fueled anthemic slabs, with a full-on cavalry charge, blasting away with complete disregard of possible consequences. «Cheesy» or «campy» are words that have no meaning in the Blind Guardian army.

And, while I lack the proper qualification to write anything properly meaningful about the guitar work on this album, it is still necessary to put in at least a meaningless good word for Olbrich's melodic developments — perhaps best illustrated on tracks like ʽWeird Dreamsʼ, a short instru­mental that goes through an aggressive opening/middle/closing theme, a couple of quasi-sym­phonic interludes, and just a tiny bit of shredding in exactly 1:20 — but similar compositional ideas are found on almost all the other tracks. You can sort of see that this guy's primary rock inspiration is Brian May, but he's also kept doing his primary classical homework as well (more Paganini!) — my favorite bit might be the final solo in ʽTwilight Hallʼ, where both guitars «fall together» for the rapid-fire shredding parts and then Olbrich's guitar falls out to follow its indivi­dually twisted baroque course, but really, it's all quite consistent throughout.

The only disappointing track on the album is ʽLord Of The Ringsʼ — not because it is rather a vain idea to compress all of the novel into three minutes (eat that, Peter Jackson!), but because the song abandons the standard formula in favor of a medieval-esque acoustic ballad setting, and (a) they do not have the compositional genius to make it particularly memorable, (b) they do not have the arranging genius to make it particularly haunting, (c) keeping it quiet puts you at risk of actually paying attention to the lyrics, which is always a bad idea with Blind Guardian. Then again, you cannot seriously blame the band for deciding to include an acoustic «breather» in be­tween all the assault and battery going on. And besides, it's The Lord Of The Rings in three minutes, how cool is that?

Anyway, it is all a rather straightforward fantasy game, no particular «depth» to it, no serious possibility of allegorical readings or anything, but, as a representative of the «not-at-all-addicted-to-fantasy» camp, I will admit to still being impressed. Most importantly, Tales From The Twi­light World really only uses all those literary influences as a front to deliver music that has its own, independent value. It is fantasy music, yes, but it is Blind Guardian fantasy music, not Tolkien or Stephen King fantasy music. Can you imagine ʽLost In The Twilight Hallʼ used in the soundtrack to The Fellowship Of The Ring? Obviously not. All the more reason for an honorable thumbs up. 

Blind Guardian: Follow The Blind

BLIND GUARDIAN: FOLLOW THE BLIND (1989)

1) Inquisition; 2) Banish From Sanctuary; 3) Damned For All Time; 4) Follow The Blind; 5) Hall Of The Ring; 6) Fast To Madness; 7) Beyond The Ice; 8) Valhalla; 9) Don't Break The Circle*; 10) Barbara Ann.

Not exactly a «sophomore slump» here — more like a temporary turn in a questionable direction. Like its predecessor, Follow The Blind is bona fide «speed metal», but distinctly less melodic than Battalions Of Fear: consistently wilder tempos, not as many catchy choruses, and, saddest of all, downgrading of Olbrich's guitar playing to rather generic shredding on most of the tracks. Apparently, the band members had developed a temporary fetish for thrash metal, and this is reflected in the extra aggression at the cost of melodicity.

In situations like these, it is often the case that the first couple of tracks will look like the best ones on the album, and the rest will simply bore the listener to death, regardless of the composi­tional particularities of the songs. Indeed, ʽBanish From Sanctuaryʼ is so emblematic of the entire record that you are not missing much of anything if you limit your listening experience to this one song. Faster than ʽMajestyʼ, two guitars rattling away at machine-gun speed, Herr Stauch pounding away on his cylinders with robotic precision, and, amazingly, a vocalist that can actually sing at this insane tempo rather than just growl. Great, marvelously precise sound — problem is, apart from perhaps the vocal melody of the chorus, I can hardly tell it apart from ʽDamned For All Timeʼ or, in fact, the absolute majority of the songs that follow.

The epic-length title track, with its acoustic intro and outro, presence of slower sections, complex structure and a slightly more interesting set of solos than usual, is the album's central point of focus, but with its lack of truly piercing riffage, seems more like a tentative Metallica imitation than an attempt to find and/or preserve their own face. Metallica influence may also be reflected in the name of the album's major instrumental composition (ʽBeyond The Iceʼ, bringing to mind ʽTrapped Under Iceʼ), but on the whole, it just sounds like one more excuse to perform some exer­cises in casual shredding.

Other than ʽBanished From Sanctuaryʼ, the only song here to have lingered on in the band's set­list was ʽValhallaʼ, either because you simply don't lose a song title like that, or because it's got the most seductively sing-along-ish chorus on the entire album: "VALHALLA! Deliverance, why've you ever forgotten me?", repeat ad infinitum until Thor and Odin are finally forced to expedite a return letter with some legal explanation of why they have ever forgotten you. There's also a special bridge section with Kai Hansen, of Helloween and Gamma Ray fame, contributing guest vocals that culminate with his famous high-pitched screeching at the end (but I must say I far prefer Kürsch's «roaring» approach on the live versions instead). It's a decent track, but hardly all that different from ʽHall Of The Ringʼ or ʽFast To Madnessʼ, in terms of composition or energy. Maybe it's a little more Blind Guardian-esque than the oh so Iron Maiden-esque ʽMadnessʼ or the oh so Slayer-esque ʽHall Of The Ringʼ, but who could really tell?

Perhaps the true spark of greatness that is placed in this record is the completely unpredictable finale — a minute-and-a-half-long rendition of ʽBarbara Annʼ with a bit of ʽLong Tall Sallyʼ thrown in, on which the band's producer Kalle Trapp sings lead vocals and plays guitar. This is just a musical joke, but arguably an indispensable one after fourty minutes of incessant, mono­tonous thrashing. In fact, I sure wish there'd have been more of them — a minute-long interlude of good old surf-rock or rockabilly done heavy metal style in between all the jackhammering might have worked wonders on the senses. As it is, the lack of diversity, multiplied by this deci­sive «speed over melody» approach, will certainly limit the audience of Follow The Blind to the hardcore public. I remain fully impressed by the band's technical ability to pull it all off without a hitch, but, in the light of their future successes, this one seems to belong to their «diligently earning their credentials / raising their qualification» phase — a stop-gap effort, in other words, never really going any place special. 

Blind Guardian: Battalions Of Fear

BLIND GUARDIAN: BATTALIONS OF FEAR (1988)

1) Majesty; 2) Guardian Of The Blind; 3) Trial By The Archon; 4) Wizard's Crown; 5) Run For The Night; 6) The Martyr; 7) Battalions Of Fear; 8) By The Gates Of Moria; 9*) Gandalf's Rebirth.

According to genre rules, the debut album by Blind Guardian is neither «thrash metal» nor «power metal», but rather «speed metal», which seems to be lodged somewhere in between the two — metal music played at extreme tempos, but with more emphasis on melodicity and «clean­ness» of sound than thrash. Oh well, whatever. The real question is: when all your songs are played at the speed of fifty billion notes per second, is there anything you can do to make any of them stand out? How do you avoid falling into the usual trap — where your whole LP sounds like one extended track with a few seconds of air inserted every now and then?

Well, Battalions Of Fear shows that it can be easily done: you just have to compensate with the vocals, and make sure that every individual track has its own distinctive chorus. If there is one single thing that might make these songs «stick», it is the simple, basic, anthemic bits — "OH, MAJESTY! ", "GUARDIAN, GUARDIAN, GUARDIAN OF THE BLIND!", "HALLOWEEN!", "RUN FOR THE NIGHT! BURN AWAY!", and so on. This is a tactic they may have inherited from Iron Maiden, who are easily the single hugest influence on these guys, but they need it so much more than Iron Maiden, who usually played at slower tempos and could rely on complex riffage and challenging song structures even without a vocal hook.

Unlike Maiden, Blind Guardian do not rely on «guitar weaving»: the two guitarists in the band seem to have their duties delineated quite properly, as Marcus Siepen concentrates on the chug­ging rhythms and André Olbrich is responsible for all the melodic lead parts. Hansi Kürsch, the frontman, is at this point still combining the double duties of the bass player and the vocalist, though clearly favoring the latter job more than the former — he's got a voice similar to Bathory's Quorthon, «snapping» rather than «barking», without any traces of corny sentimentality, perfectly suited to this type of metal-theater material. Lastly, drummer Thomas Stauch is as good as your average speed metal drummer gets, but there's not a lot to add to that description.

The artistic influences of Blind Guardian are completely clear: first and foremost, they are rabid Tolkien fanaticists (no less than three different songs — four, if you count the bonus track ʽGan­dalf's Rebirthʼ on the re-issue — are based on Lord Of The Rings), and second, they like all sorts of horror fantasies and occult dabblings, with Stephen King and Aleister Crowley each providing in­spiration for one of the tracks. Current events in this here mortal world only concern them as long as their global evilness begins to match fantasy visions — the title track, in particular, is about the horror of SDI, which they probably considered on par with the construction of Mor­goth's Than­gorodrim or something of the sort. This is a consistent position of theirs, and while their musical style would change significantly over the years, the «vision» would not, so please be warned that it's a little hard to get deep into Blind Guardian without having previously done your Tolkien homework, and yes, that actually means reading the books — all of them.

With the basic formula for this early record sort of set in stone, there is not much mood variation, and the atmosphere generated by the melodies does not always match the lyrics — for instance, ʽMajestyʼ seems to be about the last King of Arnor losing his kingdom to the forces of evil and running for cover, but the melody is neither doom-laden nor tragedy-bound, but, like all the rest, pushes forward with martial brutality and determination. The two things to look out for are the already mentioned chorus hooks — and Olbrich's solo passages, which show an honest desire to become the Paganini of the heavy metal guitar solo, combining technical virtuosity with careful attention to melodic structure. Unfortunately, my own spirit remains somewhat insensitive to this approach, but it is hard not to admire these results at least «formally».

Likewise, the instrumental ʽBy The Gates Of Moriaʼ hardly refers to the Gray Company relaxing in the shade of said gates, but could probably trigger an association with the bloody battle between Orcs and Dwarves that took place there much earlier — and who will now recognize, unless specially informed, that the melody actually quotes Dvořák's ʽFrom The New Worldʼ sym­phony? Everything is made to serve the same purpose: kick ass, hero-style. One of my favorite tracks is ʽTrial By The Archonʼ: it serves as a brief, concise intro to ʽWizard's Crownʼ, but has a completeness of its own, stating the theme, then consecutively offering the spotlight to the band's riffmeister and the band's lead hero. The theme is suitably ominous, the riffage is more inventive than on the vocal tracks, and the solos are brilliantly constructed, but I can only imagine your average Archon conducting his average trial in this particular manner if he had a schedule of around 300 trials to perform per day, two minutes per each — state the accusation (opening theme), take in the prosecution (riff variations), hear the defense (solos), pronounce final judge­ment (closing theme), next in line please.

No matter how monotonous this atmosphere is, though, the album as a whole, by metal standards, deserves an unquestionable thumbs up; in fact, its monotonousness may ultimately be its major advantage, since, not having yet established their own personal style, Blind Guardian would probably have achieved little if they tried to walk all over the metal turf — by sticking to this one particular gun, they are at least able to «mine» this speed metal formula all the way down to its logical con­clusion. In terms of songs, you'll probably only remember the epic choruses — but in terms of overall cohesiveness, you will probably retain a very precise general impression. And there is no one but J. R. R. Tolkine to blame, I guess, that in the metal world, Battalions Of Fear is altogether so less popular than Slayer's Reign In Blood, even though, for all I know, they are more or less on the same level in the «goal-achieving» department.