Bruce Dickinson. Much to Iron Maiden mainman Steve Harris‘ (probable) chagrin, whenever the air raid siren slips into solo mode, the tunes go with him. And once again, Bruce’s solo output knocks the concurrent Maiden album, song-wise, into a conveniently-placed Broooooce beanie. Was it ever thus.

The cheeky bugger has even reworked one of the more appealing Maiden choons of recent times – If Eternity Should Fail – and made it better, but we’ll deal with that later, First up it’s a single you’ve probably heard, Afterglow of Ragnarok. A singalong banger of some charm, it delivers on some of the dark allure of The Chemical Wedding (a recurring reference point throughout the record), managing to open the record in both sinister and uplifting fashion. Many Doors To Hell continues in much the same vein, Dickinson’s voice benefitting from Roy Z‘s sympathetic production and sounding utterly titanic as our hero intones Blakeian words of mystery and suspense. It’s a superb one-two to open the album, keeping foible and quirk to a minimum but absolutely packing the old school metal punch we all crave.

Rain on the Graves sees Dickinson unleashing a truly classic vocal, lurching from wild-eyed, spittle-flecked madness to sheer, stadium-levelling majesty in the blink of an eye; Despite Bruce’s long affinity with the proggier side of rock down the years, he knows where his strength lies – and the three anthemic metal bangers that open this album underline that fact.

At this point, I’m thinking this is the most enjoyable album to come from anywhere in the Maiden Camp since that afore-mentioned Chemical Wedding elpee, but let’s not jump the gun just yet…

Resurrection Men, the first of four six-minute plus songs on the album, surely presents the first chance of a misstep, right? Opening with a Spaghetti Western/James Bond feel that possibly sees it as a companion song to Senjutsu‘s Writing on the Wall, the track actually knocks that notion out of the park pretty sharpish with a disjointed, scitterish arrangement that actually delves into, for want of a better term, acid doom territory as the track unfolds. Is the world ready for a union of late nineties Muse and early seventies Budgie? Until hearing this song I’ have said no, but now… I’m not so sure. I think we could be on to something here!

Fingers in the Wounds is a fabulously over the top piece of pomp metal, with Dickinson emoting the fists-in-the-air chorus with all the bravado he can muster – which is quite a lot, as I’m sure you can imagine, whilst Z throws the kitchen sink at the backing track, shoehorning a symphony orchestra, an off-kilter Mariachi band and a caravanserai of Eastern Musicians into the song’s three and a half minute duration. And if you think that sounds like the perfect recipe for a track that ends up like a bit of a car crash, then I’d have to agree with you. Let’s just say it’s amazing what master craftsmen can do when left to their own devices…

Eternity Has Failed – geddit? – shaves ninety seconds off of the ‘original’, tightening things up and featuring some absolutely blistering lead work from Z, augmented by the florid keyboard injections of Maestro Mistheria and Dave Moreno‘s tight, taut drum explosions. This apparently is closer to Dickinson’s original pre-Book of Souls Demo of the song, and to these ears at least, this leaner, meaner remanufacture of the song is quite an improvement – but of course you’ll have your own views on that!

Perhaps the most straightforward song, Mistress of Mercy, slides up into the ears next, squalling organ work underpinning an old-fashioned headbanging treat that heads to your brain direct from ooh, around the time of Seventh Son… by the sound of it… It’s pure bliss of course – but make sure you loosen up your neck and upper back muscles before your first listen, please. I didn’t and I’m still paying a little bit of a price…

Piano-led ballad Face in the Mirror ushers us into the home straight, a welcome change in pace after what’s just occurred. Despite his ‘man of metal’ demeanour, Bruce does this kind of misty-eyed reverie very well, delivering a world-weary anthem of no little style with just the right amount of pathos, crucially resisting the temptation to over emote or ham things up, letting the song do the heavy lifting and reaping the rewards accordingly.

Breather taken and fluids absorbed, we gird ourselves for the last pair of tracks, the first of which, Shadow of the Gods, is every bit as portentous and epic as it’s title might suggest. Again, a redolence of Chemical Wedding presents itself as the song unfurls from it’s opening ‘and so we lay…’ lyrical gambit; and Dickenson ramps up the drama throughout, keeping the song moving through several movements until it’s first riffbound denouement midway through gives a beefy tumescence, releasing the listener from their constraints of appreciation and setting the primal urge on the prowl again. The final SingAlongaBruce passage, church organ and all, is irresistible.

Final track Sonata (Immortal Beloved) again employs keys rather than guitar to set the scene; Even when the first chorus arrives the guitars are nowhere to be heard as Dickinson and Z build the tension to almost intolerable heights. And that’s the clever part – at the five minute mark we’ve been through three choruses, each one surely the one to bring down the hammer for the final time on the album… and each time our hopes are confounded through each successive ebb and flow of storytelling bravado. Again, this is clearly the work of modern day masters of songwriting, and one master of holding the listener in the palm of his hand simply through the power of his voice. When a solo guitar does finally piece the veil, as it does with ninety seconds of the song remaining, it is received as manna from on high, and the absence of a ‘fitting’ headbanging end to the album is forgiven with the realisation that what we’ve been given in it’s place is immeasurably better.

It’s a nice touch of magnanimity from Bruce that it’s not he who takes the spotlight in the album’s final act but his long time sparring partner Roy Z, who’s Gilmouresque solo brings the curtain down on The Mandrake project in dignified style. But make no mistake – this album is Bruce’s in every other respect, and it’s a bloody fine one at that. Almost perfect, in fact…

The Mandrake Project releases on March 1st.