Steve Harris
British Lion

“I’ve always been proud to be British, I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t be. It’s a massive part of being me. It’s not like I’m flag-waving or trying to preach, this is not a political statement at all. It’s like supporting your football team, where you come from. I just think it lends itself to some really strong imagery too, and to me it fits in with the sound.” (Steve Harris)

If there were any doubts about Steve Harris's straightforward personality, they should be dispelled by the above statement: there is something disarming about finding, in times like these, someone who doesn’t hide behind a finger and doesn’t feel uncomfortable incorporating their origin as a decisive input in the paths undertaken over the years. Even clearer, it seems, is the claim of an absolute lack of political and/or nationalist ideology in this, especially if, without worrying too much about today's trend, which imposes the culturally elevated and correct on everyone in the “show(more or less)biz” (even to those who, in “suspicious” times, preached the absence of culture as a status to be proudly displayed), the comparison falls in such a profane environment as football…

As an Italian by birth (meaning belonging to a nation where the vast majority of people discovered their affection for the tricolor only, World Cup victories excluded, to spite the Lega Nord supporters, incidentally, I am not a supporter of the Lega: heaven forbid) a title like “British Lion” should make me smile, yet, besides pleasing me for the gift of old ‘Arry’s conciseness (the more I think about it, the more I find any other epithet given to him over the years unsuitable), I feel a bit of (healthy?) envy for a kid from 1956 A.D. who, after 15 albums and 85 million records sold with the most indestructible and marbled band (whichever way you look at it, negatively or positively) in history, decides to publish his first solo album, challenging anyone, from ’76 onwards, who has stuck tired clichés on him, flaunting them (starting with the “monolithic” cover).

All these premises to say that it would have been foolish to expect a Maiden album in disguise as a solo record (although I have read a lot about such fallacies these days, in the series “humanity always surprises me: even in the obvious”) and indeed, beyond some references here and there (occasional “dueling” lead guitars were surely not to be missed), listening to the album, the fog lifts on why such an operation was undertaken (let it be clear, considering the character, the context, and the modes chosen, thinking that economic reasons are involved would be consciously stupid: then everyone can make their own evaluations) and while we appreciate melodies, arrangements, riffs that could very well come from youthful passions (Wishbone Ash, Thin Lizzy, Deep Purple, The Who, UFO, Trapeze… the voice Harris chose for this project is very reminiscent of a certain Glenn Hughes) and/or, more or less contemporaneous (Scorpions, Judas Priest…) to our hero (I leave to the “musical scientists” to figure out why there are no influences attributable to bands like, I don’t know, the Sex Pistols) it's inevitable to think of him, tours permitting, in the pub built inside his home, listening to old records/tapes possibly exalted by the bitter taste of a pale ale or stout.

This is a traditional hard rock album where linear and easy choruses of “These are the Hands” alternate with heavier intros like that of “This is my God” followed by the riffs of the Seventies Metal(?) of “Karma Killer.”

An album of heart and power that doesn’t claim to astonish (a role lately assigned too much to improvisation, as if people have forgotten the never sufficiently lamented Steele’s invitation not to confuse lack of talent for genius) but, at the limit (if the term is permissible) to embrace and console: if “Love” in the raw state could be discussed without offending elderly sages and young sprouts without personality, I would talk about it, but even if that was not what the author intended, I heed the advice not to speak on what must be kept silent.

Mo.