Manilla Road
Open The Gates

Born in the Cretaceous of Metal (when Halford could still do a comb-over), Manilla Road initially released two more than appreciable albums ("Invasion" and "Metal", respectively from '80 and '82) where the early metal of the first Priest, within a context still heavily tied to 70s hard rock sounds, is mixed, on one hand, with epic nuances and on the other, with "sound experiments" that might vaguely recall the psychedelia of the previous decade (nothing transcendental, mind you! Just enough to leave the classic metalhead all meat and Manowar slightly perplexed).

Although far from what the band would produce in the future, these early metallic utterances are nonetheless sufficient to highlight some of the distinctive traits of the trio which, in this initial phase, aside from the guitar hero (I've even read of his involvement in jazz and country groups... however!), an excellent pianist, a very enthusiastic biker, leader, and primary composer Mike Shelton, also counted among its ranks the gigantic Scott Park on bass and the good Rick Fisher on drums. In particular, besides the "atypical" vocal aspect (on which I will focus more later) and the tendency to indulge in atmospheres that are so to speak between the fantasy and the dreamy, what stands out the most is surely the role of the lead guitar: apart from the originality of the riffing (which will still reach its best results with the subsequent albums), it is and will be the massive solo component that becomes a real trademark of the band.

The song form typical of the genre is, on many occasions, completely distorted and the solo, from a simple ornament to show off between a chorus and the next verse, becomes an integral part of the composition and ends up, in many cases, stealing the scene from the rest of the song. Despite critics and the public being almost unanimously agreed in identifying "The Deluge" ('86) as the compositional peak of the band, "Open the Gates" ('85) represents the album of true change. The first innovation concerns the lineup: Rick Fisher (who will still collaborate in the production of the album) gives up the drummer's seat to Randy "The Thrasher" Foxe... and it shows. The drumming becomes less linear, more present, and unpredictable, a perfect plot for the ever-increasingly leading Mark Shelton’s guitar work, weaving sometimes complex, but always tight and highly effective rhythms. The arrangements become more refined, even the last uncertainties that compromised the previous yet excellent "Crystal Logic" ('83) give way to a creative flair that seems inexhaustible for variety and richness of ideas, technical prowess never an end in itself, aggression, and melody.

The result is a decisively heavy epic metal (or power), never banal, very heartfelt, made of light and shadows and contrasts, where certainly more classical and aggressive episodes (see the initial "Metalstorm" and "Open the Gates") accompany others more reflective (including the real masterpiece of the album, "The Ninth Wave", where the references to the Arthurian works of Lord Tennyson are evident), where distortions take a back seat and the focus is on the elegance of the melodies and the beauty of the vocal lines (the arpeggios and lyrics of "Astronomica"—clearly inspired by the homonymous "Poem on the Stars" by Manilio, would give chills even to a schnitzel..). In this regard, Shelton is confirmed as an exceptional composer but a questionable singer. Personally, I greatly appreciate his nasal-peg-toned' voice... but I also understand that the new generations, accustomed to the glass-shattering voices of the handsome guys with hair conditioner in the pocket of their jacket that are in fashion today, might cringe in front of the powerful but very nasal voice of the bearded biker (for those who do not know the band, think of a kind of Lemmy much less gritty, but with a cold..).

Beyond personal tastes, however, even the vocal performance is, after all, objectively appreciable: the anger and versatility reach where the voice and technique falter, the strong participation and a sprinkle of theatricality in the singing do the rest and, in my opinion, should make even the most stubborn detractors of Mr. Adenoids turn a blind ear. The latest good news comes from the artwork: the previous cover artist has finished preschool and, having started elementary school, has seen the crayons seized by his mother. And with that, a big risk was averted: another cover as ugly as that of "Crystal Logic" and Manilla Road wouldn’t have signed a record deal even with Sugar. To the great delight of Odin and all the Æsir, however, the brush was passed to Eric Larnoy (the true Messiah Marcolin of the sector) who, perhaps inspired by the music of our heroes or by strong doses of Amaro Braulio, created a truly suggestive cover that further increases the charm of this exceptional album.

P.S.: the reviewed version is the reissued album on CD.