Dio
Holy Diver

THE REVIEW

From left to right and then from right to left, forming a perpetual semicircle that moves back and forth like a damn pendulum. This is how I’ve been seeing the forest roads lately, which I travel in the evening, in the dark, after work, illuminated by a tiny headlamp. In a context where noise, beyond the heavy breathing and the shifting of stones/snow/leaves, doesn't exist, my favorite music bursts through the headphones with all its solid and hypnotic force. It feels like I’m in an alien dimension: like going back in time. This atmosphere, like the day after a nuclear attack, three hundred meters above the first streetlight of the village, attracts me obsessively: like the song of a siren for Ulysses. It’s dark, and I charge into the darkness armed with legs and sharp music. Today it’s Ronnie James Dio keeping me company: perhaps the voice closest to my ideal type.

I soon find myself taking long strides on the initial gentle slope, in complete rhythmic symbiosis with the famous mid-tempo "Holy Diver". Solid and hypnotic, like the pace I want to keep now that I don’t feel tired yet and I feel invincible. I foolishly try to whisper the intriguing verses as if his vocal range were of little importance. I’ll pay the price later. I run out of breath 2 km ahead, when the metallic march of "Gypsy" is relentlessly nearing its end, with the rough voice providing a premium backdrop. On the real climb, the steps have to be necessarily smaller and faster, a bit like the gearing and pedaling on a bike when the slope increases. They assist, support, and urge me not to trade running for a leisurely walk, with the melodic up-tempo "Caught In The Middle" and its catchy refrain, and especially the explosive energy of the fleeting and fast-paced "Stand Up And Shout" that I frantically seek on the mp3. I immerse myself in the scale solo and motivate myself thinking I made it when the road finally levels out. Cursed and malevolent final gentle slope.

You think you’ve conquered the elevation, but instead, that last kilometer of modest yet continuous climb has the ability to break your legs outright: "Straight To The Heart" continues with bursts, accelerations, and slowdowns, much like my uncertain run. I give up and walk for two necessary minutes to reach the refuge where I can make the U-turn. The mind naturally relaxes. I switch to autopilot. The muscles are warm, I don’t feel the cold anymore, and gravity assists so it doesn’t feel like I’m running anymore; I barely feel the lactic acid in my calves, which I will curse tomorrow morning, and I let myself go like "Don’t Talk To Strangers"; skillfully managing to alternate between the stick and the carrot multiple times in a few minutes. I nearly enter a state of meditation and catatonia, thinking about the day spent, and I only drift off in the last flat kilometer where it’s necessary to push. At the rhythm of a killer track with total appeal (due to guitar work and melodies) like "Rainbow In the Dark", I embark on an insane lethal progression that makes me collapse to the ground having nothing left to give a handful of steps from the car. I’m there, on the frozen asphalt, trying to catch my breath while I watch the city lights. A refreshing beer awaits me.

Holy Diver is one of those rare albums that you listen to with immense pleasure even after a long time. I believe this is the meaning of classic: immune to time and repeated playbacks on the stereo. The adjective indispensable does not become an exaggeration for those passionate about melodic hard rock/metal and want to own a work that set the standard. You don’t need to be a critic to understand that the song structures, the singing style, and the instrumental phase of this album have been copied far and wide for decades, alas often without reaching its heights.

Once again, the second time since I started writing on Debaser, I have to thank the user Mista. He won’t remember, but he passionately recommended it to me years ago, and this review is for him, should he ever return to frequent these pages.

Ilfreddo