Walk on the Wyldside
Picture the scene… thousands of fans scream at the top of their lungs as their favourite band strolls onto the stage, the cheering continues as the band loosen up. The axeman casually taps his fingers on the neck of his prized possession, the frontman struts around whipping the crowd into an expectant frenzy and the muscle section prepares for business. An expectant hush descends on the crowd momentarily until a crash rings out, the first monster drops, it’s a giant. The onlookers roar their approval as the band go to work, shredding their way through a back catalogue of hits, they rip into the big numbers and banter back and forth during the breaks. Eventually at the end of the gig with the fans baying for an encore, the band regroup for a glorious crescendo, the front man twirls around, his long hair streams out around him and his flailing sword bites deep into the neck of the last orc standing. The creature falls forward supplicant at the feet of the lead and the crowd follow likewise, chanting the names of their heroes. Slowly the band take their leave and the noise of the crowd falls from screams to buzz to murmur as they make their way home, satisfied with another great performance. Kings of the Wyld is fantasy, turned up to eleven (sadly though no one expires from choking on someone else’s vomit), so you’ll have to excuse this little flight of fancy, it’s Nicholas Eames fault.
Kings of the Wyld follows the adventures of an ageing band of warriors and particularly Clay Cooper, a bass man if ever there was one. If they were a real rock band this would be one of those reunion tours, not quite the Rolling Stones, probably more Guns’n’Roses. The kind which follows several abortive attempts for the lead singer to launch a solo career. All the other members have fallen on hard times and swallowed their pride about being dumped in the first place, belatedly realising that their original appeal was not as individuals but as a collective. ‘Creative differences’ are thrown aside in the face of cold hard cash. This is not though the story of an actual rock band, and so the motives are considerably more honourable, a family member of one of the members has got themselves into a seriously tricky spot and needs all the help they can get. The first half or so of the book focuses on the actual act of getting the band back together, before moving on to the rescue attempt.
The first and most obvious thing to state is that Kings of the Wyld features a set-up of simple genius. Heavy metal with its outrageous pomposity, and heroic adventurers are such exquisite bedfellows it’s a wonder no one thought of it before, or maybe they did and I just missed it. While the premise might be inspired, the plot itself is somewhat derivative and beats a clichéd path through some fairly familiar set ups, world weary has-beens, reluctantly emerging from retirement, backs ache, bellies hang, and hair, well hair is thinner, all that’s missing is Danny Glover rolling his neck and announcing for the fifth time that “He’s getting too old for this s…”. What Kings of the Wyld does not lack though is panache and humanity, there is also an overriding sense of fun present within the narrative, I might even try and coin a new sub-genre, Banter-sy.
If you’re a fan of a self-deprecating summer blockbuster, which moves quickly from set piece to set piece and is the perfect accompaniment to a bowl of popcorn then you could do a whole lot worse than pick up Kings of the Wyld and a Heavy Metal hits album