Review Summary: A mixed bag any way you take it, but much better than the disaster it could’ve been
Bruce Dickinson’s second solo album and first released after leaving Iron Maiden is the epitome of a midlife crisis album. As if going out of the way to sound as little like his alma mater as possible, Balls to Picasso tries its hand at a variety of styles and generally opts for an experimental attitude without much of a larger picture in mind. The lyrics also come tempered with a mix of uncertainty and cynicism, seemingly suggesting that Dickinson had to figure out what to actually do with this newfound freedom now that he finally had it.
With that framing, it makes sense for a couple tracks to lend themselves to clumsy executions. “Shoot all the Clowns” is the first track that comes to mind in this regard, coming off like a leftover from 1990’s Tattooed Millionaire with a sleaze rock buildup and rather forced vocal lines. “Sacred Cowboys” comes out awkwardly as its promising gallop and otherwise smooth chorus are beset by the strangely sequenced verses and a metaphor that feels like it didn’t quite land. “Gods of War” is also nice but it’s tricky to pin down what it’s really going for.
Fortunately, there are more songs that work here than don’t and Dickinson has some solid chemistry in his first of several collaborations with guitarist Roy Z and his Tribe of Gypsies. The near eight-minute “Cyclops” is an uncanny yet somehow breezy opener, riding an almost industrial pace tempered with grungy wah and claustrophobic lines. “Hell No” and “Laughing in the Hiding Bush” also stand out as more sinister numbers, the former having a distraught air with an ominous rhythm and the latter putting in some sharper chugs. “1000 Points of Light” and “Fire” also stand out for the serviceable grooves that just scream mid-nineties and “Change of Heart” is a sentimental ballad though perhaps overshadowed by it’s more famous counterpart.
Speaking of which, this all culminates with the majestic catharsis displayed by the closing “Tears of the Dragon.” While “Cyclops” may be a minute longer, this is the album’s true epic with its swelling clean guitar, lighter-friendly chorus, and lyrics cloaked in enough abstraction while still making their inspiration perfectly clear. The instrumental segment is also commendable as its rousing build and blazing solos shift into an almost reggae section that feels like it shouldn’t work as effectively as it does, elevating the structure and enhancing the emotions. Tears of the Dragon” is a perfect song; it makes the rest of the album look like child’s play and imagining an album full of more songs like it is on par with conspiring to steal fire from Olympus.
Balls to Picasso is a mixed bag any way you take it, but it’s far better than the disaster that it could’ve been. It isn’t the full-genre exercise of a Skunkworks or the extravagant scale of a Chemical Wedding, but its more varied style ends up highlighting the personality at work rather than hindering it. The seeming lack of cohesion can make it easy to focus on its closer, but open-minded listeners will be rewarded with plenty of other choice cuts. I wouldn’t call Balls to Picasso essential listening but it’s a good one to get in for a little more understanding of Bruce Dickinson’s legacy in and out of Maiden.
