Brocas Helm
Into Battle

In 1984, many things were changing in the international metal scene. Of the NWOBHM cauldron, only a few celebrated embers survived. Not all of the flash-in-the-pan bands that formed the backbone (and an essential part of the allure) of the movement managed to overcome the hurdle of the second (if not the first) album. England, inevitably, saw its dominance as the homeland of metal dimming and weakening and clung fiercely to the few big names that it hoped would still guarantee it prestige and respect.
Across the ocean, however, the trend was moving towards a more aggressive sound, decidedly faster, capable of rewriting, by exaggerating them, the sound limits once dictated by the New Wave. Within a few months, the Bay Area thrash and the typical U.S. Power would dominate, inevitably (even if unintentionally), rendering what the masters of Her Majesty's land had previously produced as "dated" and "outdated".
In short: in 1984, releasing an album with strong NWOBHM influences, and moreover in the States, was little less than a discographic suicide.

"Into Battle", the debut album for the San Francisco trio, was released in 1984 and is an album with very strong NWOBHM tones. It strongly smells of Di'Anno-era Iron Maiden, recalls the more decisive fragrances of Angel Witch, and, even if distantly, has a vague aftertaste of Motorhead (not to mention the evident similarities with their contemporaries – and very great – Omen).
Nevertheless, even a superficial listen is enough to dispel any doubt about the originality, but above all the quality, of the musical offering contained in this album.
Brocas Helm (named after a particular type of cavalry helmet), indeed, showcases an objectively impressive creativity, astonishing for the richness of ideas, complexity of compositions, and arrangements. Much like the more famous Manilla Road, the simple "song form" was not enough.
Here too, a rare and overwhelming creative flair is noticeable. Here too, the solo (in some cases, it almost seems like "improvisation") is not an obligatory passage, a simple occasion to show off some guitar skills, but the pinnacle and highest expression of the band's compositional abilities.
Unlike in the Shelton household, however, it's not just the guitar (which still dominates; listen to the blistering guitar solo in the wild card "Here To Rock") that refuses the reins of traditional metal: every instrument seems literally prey to a compositional fury rarely heard, a sort of urgency to unleash its creativity, giving life to solo deliriums and instrumental acrobatics, a blend of melody, groove, and a touch of (in truth, quite a bit of...) swagger, resulting from an almost "seventies" approach in songwriting (just listen to the intro of "Into The Ithilstone", or the semi-plagiarism to "Stormbringer" by Deep Purple in "Beneath A Haunted Moon").
An astonishing rhythm section, almost invasive, impressive for its inability to settle for the most straightforward solution, almost disorienting when James Schumacher's bass seems to physically push its way among the other instruments, claiming its lead role, to dive into one of the many bass monologues that dot the album (as in the very intense title track) or to impose itself as the keystone of the entire piece (as in the already mentioned "Beneath A Haunted Moon").
Thus, Brocas Helm ends up being an excellent epic metal, perhaps atypical, but focused more on atmospheres and themes (also thanks to the frequent inserts of sound effects such as gallops, battlefield noise...), than on embellishments like choruses, counter-choruses, dragons on the undies, etc., etc. The overall result, it must be said, is excellent, but not perfect.
Firstly, the quality is compromised by the production. Shameful and embarrassing. Squalid and obscene. It's not simply poor; it's nonexistent. On many occasions, it's difficult to understand exactly what our heroes are playing, and in many, the voice is completely overwhelmed by the instruments.
The singing itself is the second weak point of the album. At the time, I had defined Mark Shelton as a kind of Lemmy with a cold. Well… in this case, hoarseness has also been added. If the nasal tone of the Manilla Road leader could be salvaged by highlighting its originality and theatricality, in this case, it would be much more challenging for anyone wanting to praise the voice of good Bobbie "Dark Rider" Wright.
Certainly not lacking (and it's the minimum required...) is the right participation, the pathos, and the essential aggressiveness. What is missing (almost entirely) is the technical aspect. Wright's voice is hoarse, strained, totally incapable of reaching even reasonable vocal hills… and the ridiculous production only worsens things.
If we add to this the absolute incoherence of this album with the times and places in which it saw the light, the inevitable clashes with the label (solely blamed, among other things, for the embarrassing cover) and the difficulty, in some respects, of the musical proposal, it is very easy to understand the very limited success of "Into Battle" (a fate shared by many other masterpieces of the genre and period, above all "King Of The Dead" and "Battle Cry").
Dropped by First Strike, it took the band four years to return to the scene with the more than good self-produced "Black Death" ('88), yet another proof of how a sick and delirious recording can irreparably spoil a great album.