Keeper of the Flame

Death Dealer is a Canadian heavy metal band whose song 'Cross My Way' was featured on Metal Blade Records' Metal Massacre IV compilation in 1983. But for whatever reason, not only did it take them three years to release their debut album Keeper of the Flame, but they also changed their name to Deaf Dealer in the process, which doesn't even make sense and sounds far less badass. But does the music compensate for this? Let's find out...

The NWOBHM influence on this band's sound is obvious, insofar as the vocalist sounds like a cross between Brian Ross and Bruce Dickinson, the riffing is NWOBHM-inspired and there are many melodic twin guitar licks that echo those of Dave Murray and Adrian Smith. The vocalist has a well-rounded range, but his performance comes across as rather amateurish, for a lack of a better word. While the rhythm section is solid throughout, the bass is surprisingly active in certain sections while still complementing the riffs and fitting nicely into the mix. The production is raw enough to capture the spirit of underground metal, and has a good amount of reverb so the sound isn't too dry.

The album's track list on the other hand is a mixed bag. While the first three tracks, including fast opener 'Don't Get In My Way', 'Deaf Dealer' and instrumental 'On the Wings of a Russian Foxbat' are the most interesting songs, 'Free and Easy' has off-putting lyrics that don't fit the rest of the album at all, making it the weakest track of the bunch. 'Dead Zone' just plods along, while 'The Fugitive' is another dud with its dull chorus: "Hide away all day, run about all night..." 'Caution to Kill' however redeems the album slightly. It's a 6 minute epic that starts with a suspenseful marching rhythm before launching into the song at full speed. Overall, the album is somewhat front-loaded and suffers from some inconsistencies.

After this, the band did actually record a second album that was finished in 1987 (and produced by none other than newcomer Scott Burns), but their new label Mercury Records refused to release it. It wasn't until 2014 that it finally got an official release. Ironically, that long-lost album is now Deaf Dealer's most accessible, as Keeper of the Flame still has yet to be reissued. Maybe that's for the best, as what's presented here is a merely decent but inconsistent album that sounds too derivative to really stand on its own.

"Tip of the Metal Blade" is a review series delving into some of the most obscure bands on Metal Blade Records' roster during the 1980s.

Ya know what’s fantastic about two or three bands leading the way for an entire genre of music? No matter how you try to validate your own ideas, no matter how many other influences bring gifts to your sound, and no matter how many generations of acts before yours have made you a thirteenth cousin to those sworn bands, you’ll always feel their hot, patronizing breath on your neck, and Deaf Dealer’s collar is singed pretty badly.

While many sources I've perused have this Quebec group closely following the hoof prints of Maiden, which is fine, I've however noticed they tend not to mention any other inspiration Deaf Dealer has possibly gleaned from the scene, and y'know, that's pretty asinine. Mind you, this is ’86. Do they really sound that much like Maiden? Okay, the Life After Death live album and everything prior to that had spun as regularly as clocks on these guys’ stereos I'm sure, much like every stereo owned by metal's public ear, but to limit Keeper of the Flame by claiming single-minded clone-ism doesn't just ring of a lack of imagination, but ultimately a lack of awareness.

Now anyone, and I mean anyone, who followed metal solely through convenience store, corporate magazines like Circus and Hit Parader, while thinking they were on top of things, were actually very blind to a scene that was bustling like a Middle Eastern bazaar beneath their major label headliners. “Hey, I think I hear a little Maiden in there.” You could find ‘a little Maiden’ in a Thor album, but thank you for those words of revelation. Now isn't it possible they sometimes sound closer to Virgin Steele? “Who? Never heard of ‘em”. Of course you haven’t. Okay, how about Leatherwolf? “Leatherwolf"? Or a combination of the two? Okay, how about something more your speed, like maybe The Spectre Within-era Fates Warning, or for a bit of a stretch, early but more light-hearted Savatage. “Well, at least I’ve heard of those two bands.” Congratulations. “Yeah, but they still sound like Maiden”. Sigh...thanks again for that truly inventive observation. Dude, you do realize there were bands back then that sounded like Maiden beside Maiden, though they tended to lessen the similarities by throwing more of their own individual appeal into their sound. “Well, yeah, I guess, but it all pretty much boils down to Maiden, doesn’t it? And who’s Thor anyway?”

Anyway, Deaf Dealer, despite some unusual major label success in their homeland with Polygram, has garnered really no recognition amongst fans or peers, back then or as we close in on the act's 24th year of life. Keeping their earlier Death Dealer moniker probably would’ve attracted more of the raving thrash crowd, most of which would’ve scorned this lp way before melody-makers like “Dead Zone” and “Getting Ready to Go” sauntered into earshot, though the lively and agile “Don’t Get in my Way”, somewhat Tyrant (US)-structured instrumental “On the Wings of a Russian Foxbat” (yeah, it’s a plane), “The Fugitive”, and, if they manage to get this far, album closer “Caution to Kill” would’ve shown that the band isn’t the least bit deprived of an early Torch-spun energy, nor is it absent of power metal validity that’s less traditional than, say, Helstar and Virgin Steele, but exists nonetheless. Again, no thrash to be had, and the porous speed metal herb that exists is sprinkled quite frugally. But this blend of semi-melodic power metal, as witnessed in the traditionally built and compelling “Deaf Dealer”, is played well without over-complication.

Lead rhythm section Ian Penn and Marc Hayward flow easily by themselves or entwined with one another, capable of dashing off an impressive showcase of gutsy riffage with clean and stimulating strokes. Vocally hung on staunch soprano airwaves, Michael Flynn may now be just another above-ordinary minstrel wasting away in the underground’s wake, but he’s a ringer for this nine-songer that with a raspy voice would’ve dimmed in fluency, metallic poise, and maybe even allure. Well, maybe not allure, since hardly anyone I’ve come across has sought this out, but let’s say a chain-smoker, like the guy over in Krank, would’ve coughed some decorations off of this thing.

Journey into Fear, their ill-fated follow-up, has sat on the bench all this time, so the fruit of their labor boils down to this nobly titled slab - nobly titled, nobly executed, and nobly buried, but deserving of excavation and a chance to prove itself without the billion Maiden-isms people have thrown on it like a wet blanket.