That cover. That cover. For a band enjoying its biggest global success since 1988, with a fan base eagerly awaiting the follow-up to a comeback album for the ages, and with a reputation for some of the most indelible cover art in heavy metal history, the cover for Iron Maiden’s 13th album could not have been more underwhelming. An amateurish, computer-generated attempt at placing Eddie in the middle of an Eyes Wide Shut-inspired fever dream, the image adorning Dance Of Death is a complete mess: characters with comically contorted necks and limbs, an infant awkwardly sitting on a dog that’s awkwardly standing on a snake. It’s all too much. As the story goes, the band decided to go with artist David Patchett’s “unfinished prototype” instead of his completed work, and Patchett subsequently demanded his name be removed from the album credits.

It was not a good way to kick off a marketing campaign, and once listeners got beyond that awful artwork, the actual music inside turned out to be almost as curious, but thankfully not as sloppy. At 68 minutes, it’s one of the band’s longest albums, and arguably the most self-indulgent. There’s a handful of songs that fit neatly into that Iron Maiden template, from the energetic opener (“Wildest Dreams”), the hooky single (“Rainmaker”), and the requisite Harris epics (“No More Lies,” “Dance Of Death”), all of which are indeed by the book, yet strong.

However, the real charm of Dance Of Death can be found the deeper into it you go. The raging “Montségur” is an inspired piece, the heaviest song the band recorded in the 2000s. “New Frontier” and “Gates Of Tomorrow,” the latter of which featuring Nicko McBrain’s first ever songwriting credit, are vibrant tunes, bolstered by Dickinson’s strongly sung choruses. “Journeyman” is a good little curveball, an acoustic number whose subtlety offers a welcome counterpoint to all the bombast. The kicker, though, is Adrian Smith’s masterful “Paschendale,” an eight-and-a-half-minute portrait of World War I trench warfare, written with cinematic flair and sung with gusto by Dickinson.

Slightly too long for its own good — two or three songs could have easily been excised — Dance Of Death was a small step down from 2001’s Brave New World, but was nevertheless a sign that the band was enjoying its creative rebirth. The next two albums would turn out to be even better, and even more encouraging, the artwork for each would be massive improvements.