The powerful Swedish triumvirate known as Grand Magus began shifting n' rumbling with their appropriately-titled sophomore album, Monument. Thick-slabbed doom, pure as Odin's blood, pulsed and punched its way out from that record, triumphantly waving its hair and horns in the wind: a high-powered, apehangered Harley hulking its way across the pagan vastlands. The Magus brand of doom is/was that of freewheeling rock liberty, never bogged down by claptrap plod or woe-is-me pissaway, remaining stout and stonefooted though both mountains and caverns. This R-n-R pulse, however, simply was too wild, too powerful to be held in the limb-swallowing throes of doom metal. Their desire to rock hard and harder was simply too great, too overwhelming.
The resulting third album, Wolf's Return, was an energized foray into the realms of power and trad metal (only fitting, as doom IS the traditional heavy metal, is it not?), and was nearly universally worshipped by wordrakers and hornraisers alike. Led by the impassioned, soul-quaking voice of guitarist/singer JB, this record, deemed by many (ye olde Captain included) as one of the mightiest recordings of recent times, has now proven to be a mere precursor --a preview, if you will-- to their axe-swinging masterpiece, this Iron Will.
If Wolf's Return served as the blueprint for Iommified crunch applied to spirited, solo-RJD gallop and majesty, Iron Will is the resulting monolith built with defiance and grit; riff-bricked, soul-mortared. Nothing, and I mean nothing released this year contains as much purebred metallic fortitude, as much anthemic revelry, as much truimphant ass-kickery as this frothing beast of untainted heavy-fucking-metal. JB emerges from the lukearm waters of Damn Good Vocalist Lake and rises to the burning heavens of idolatry, easily usurping the legions of Bruce/Rob emulators to become a distict hero unto his own. The man takes the uncomplicated, borderline simplistic workings of "Silver Into Steel" and "Beyond Good and Evil", and molds them into hair-spiking epics. His acccompaning riffs are like a sledge bursting through foot-thick layers of concrete, pounding a signature lick into each song to accompany their soon-to-be-classic choruses.
The 'soon-to-be-classic' tag isn't one to be tossed around recklessly; but that'd be nary impossible anyway, as each of these soon-to-be-classics weighs a fucking ton. Iron Will is the first filler-free Grand Magus effort. Whereas "Ulvaskall", "Baptised In Fire", "Blood Oath", and "Kingslayer", to name a few, loomed large over the rest of their previous output, each of these nine tracks are cut of the same impeccable cloth, making for their most complete, cogent collection to date. The faster cuts flow more naturally this time around, largely due to drummer Sebastian's Phil Rudd/Vinny Appice-esque penchant for hitting his shit incredibly hard. His economic/tectonic thwacking shines vibrantly on the album's true burner, "Fear is the Key", and on the full-on Hessian stomp of "The Shadow Knows", both standing as two if the most unabashedly METAL songs of the year. While a band like Lair of the Minotaur has to ignite cliched verbal fireworks underneath your septum in order to flaunt of their "metalness", Grand Magus just flat-out owns their aura, and they don't need theatrics to make it apparent. You can feel it, and they can feel it; that braided thread of intangible sinew that runs through us all. Mind, body, soul. And though they don't need to ram their point home, they certainly do. Hard. Iron Will is a natural progression from the powerful firestorm of Wolf's Return, a sequel of sorts --but this thing is T2: Judgement Day, The Empire Strikes Back, and The Godfather Part 2 rolled into a giant ball of molten metal perfection. Doubts? Crank up the title track, let your hair down, and make a fist with your non-brew hand. If that fist isn't pumping in a matter of seconds, neither is the blood through your veins.
With each thundering bassline, each crackling riff...with every smokin', soulful guitar solo and blood-shaking croon that comes out of JB's monitors, Grand Magus chips away at the stone, carving its name into the pantheon of modern icons. Iron Will ROCKS, and it rocks harder than any goddamn record I've heard this year. A bona fide contender to become one of the decade's true classics, and a leading candidate to usurp Holy Diver as my underwear-clad karaoke album of choice.