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In 1993, the first solo album of the charismatic vocalist of the legendary Death'SS is released: an operation that will truly delight long-time fans, as the project aims to renew Steve Sylvester's collaboration with members of the original lineup.
The invaluable contribution of the mythical Paul Chain, the historical axe of Death'SS, makes this work a decidedly appetizing dish for anyone who loved the Italian band from its early steps (taken, let us recall, in the distant 1977).
First and foremost, forget the metallic blasts of albums like "Heavy Demons" and "Do What Thou Wilt": "Free Man" is called to follow the more authentically seventies impulses of Sylvester, who builds his solo work on the coordinates of a solid hard-rock with a Sabbathean matrix, but with the intent to move freely, distancing himself in part from the iconoclasm that characterizes the art of his Death'SS, rather confronting those bands he loved most and that influenced him the most, particularly exalting his more glam and street-rock soul.
References to the horrific and blasphemous imagery that looms at the background of music supported by the parent band are not entirely set aside, but it is undeniable that our friend has strived to give a greater push towards more intimate and introspective themes, without disdaining, however, a lightness, a desire to have fun and a healthy carefree attitude that manifests itself especially in the concluding tracks of the work, which end up filtering with an incredibly exuberant and irreverent rock.
The album, in truth, opens with the rhythmic and elephantine step of the heaviest track of the lot: I speak of the epic "Broken Soul", characterized by Sylvester's spirited voice (the gothic-like chorus is beautiful) and Paul Chain's sharp and heavy guitar, which collaborates with his "frenemy" once again after more than ten years, along with another historic Death'SS guitarist Albert Simonini. But Chain's touch is felt even more in the Sabbathean "Underground Life", undoubtedly one of the album's strong pieces: a track warmed by the passionate and enveloping tone of Chain's guitar, here more than ever paying tribute to the indispensable Tony Iommi.
Soft keyboards and more sustained tempos characterize the third track "Deadly Sin", certainly more Death'SS-like in its stride, also due to its religious-themed content.
"The Wail of the Ocean" represents the most composite episode of the work, a track with sinuous Mediterranean charm that skillfully maneuvers among acoustic partitions, sudden electric discharges, and rapid accelerations, which create the ideal theater for Sylvester's versatility and theatrical flair, managing to instill the right amount of evilness into what remains the most experimental moment of the album.
The tempo accelerates in the Maiden-like "People Who Live in Glasshouses Shouldn't Throw Stones", a nice metal lash where Chain hands over the guitar to Andy Panigada, creator of the track that could most easily fit in as a Death'SS album.
The absolute peak is, however, reached with the intense title track, a potent reinterpretation of the namesake track by Angel Witch, placed not by chance at the center of the album: commanding the scene is a suggestive guitar arpeggio crafting an epic ballad with an archaic and visionary flavor. Sylvester's heartfelt and engaging interpretation, at ease even in a more subdued and sentimental dimension.
"Agreement with the Devil", instead, sounds more ordinary, perfectly blending the famous riff of "Children of the Grave" and the pounding bass of "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner". The track would brush the most blatant plagiarism if it weren't characterized by the singer's unmistakable voice, returning to scratch with great style. Once again praiseworthy are Chain's guitar solos, melodic, nostalgic, moving in their fusion with the screeching satanic screams of Steve Sylvester, just like in the good old days.
As announced at the beginning of the review, the last portion of the album indulges in a more carefree and street rock: if the banal "Run Away" does not excite, "Preacher Man" entertains a lot, opened and closed by the ramblings of a phantom music therapist on the alleged harmful effects of rock music: the track, drawing equally from AC/DC, Motorhead, T-Rex, and Motley Crue, is a true act of love towards a genre, rock'n'roll, that is always and anyway carried in the heart, despite Steve Sylvester and co. having preferred over the years to carve their own path, filled with nightmares and occultism, which over time led them to coin a genre all their own (horror-metal) and to achieve the status of a true cult band.
Also noteworthy is the bonus track "Dirty Game", a poignant ballad of perverse love that allows the band to confront glam and street rock of the pompous eighties, influences never hidden by the mephistophelean singer of Death'SS.
"Free Man", which will have a sequel in 1998 (Steve Sylvester's second solo album, "Mad Messiah"), is not a work that revolutionizes the world of rock and heavy metal, but it has the merit of not boring and knowing how to please with a series of well-played and decidedly heartfelt tracks; "Free Man" also delivers to us a different image of an artist we should all be proud of and never despise, even if at times he may appear as a clown; "Free Man", finally, is a real godsend for all Death'SS enthusiasts, and in particular for those who took Paul Chain's departure from the lineup hard, the showy guitarist and co-founder.
"Now I'm Free and I Don't Care,I Don't Give a Damn
What Happen in There,
Now I Can Do
What I Like
Because Now I'm a Free Man"
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