I saw Iron Maiden.
What follows here are a smattering of low-quality cellphone pictures from the only camera I dared to bring into the venue, along with a few from my proper camera to add context from the road trip and events surrounding the concerts. Consider yourself warned with respect to their resolution. Some will be blurry because being on the floor as we were (editor's note: ! ) we were being jostled much, much more than a little.
After a half hour or so of cock-rock nepotism from Steve Harris' daughter wherein a drunken fat man insisted on being hoisted and crowdsurfed even well into the sound check after her set, ending in a security guard being rescued by four or five of his comrades after botching his removal, the lights dimmed and the roar of Spitfires and a certain British PM led us directly into their first song of the evening. No Maiden fanatic worth their spit ought to need many guesses as to what that might be given the opening speech.
What I regret most about the linked video, apart from the shoddy quality, is that you get little or no sense of the sudden possessed fanaticism that overtook the crowd the moment the song kicked in. We were swept five feet forward much more suddenly than I anticipated and spent the next four songs being thrashed eight feet left and right in constant, violent rhythms that we had no choice but to cooperate with, like the most orgasmic ocean riptide you've ever experienced. I had worried that myself and others might have to try to break up mosh pits that boneheaded fratboys decided to start because any brains they might have had to distinguish bands whose music is suited to moshing apart from older, classic bands with headbanging rhythms would have been replaced with loutish, hair-trigger adrenaline. The problem was moot in this case; there was no room for anything that could have been technically considered moshing to take place, but for reasons I hadn't considered even distantly.
This was obviously shortsighted on my part, however, since the reaction to the announcement of ticket sales in my part of the country had been so alarmingly ravenous that Maiden vocalist Bruce Dickinson had commented specifically on it:
Anyways, after deciding that spending all our time and effort trying to keep from being trampled and crushed was no way to enjoy a concert, AC and me retreated back to where we could try to settle the cramps in our lungs that had come from struggling to breathe and not pass out from heat exhaustion, and then I could begin with the pictures:Bruce Dickinson @ ironmaiden.com wrote:We are truly overwhelmed by this response, especially as some of these cities we haven't played in 20 years!! Being Brits we are always very comfortable with Canadians and it will be a great pleasure to get back on the prairies again. It was always a LOUD response there! We look forward to this immensely and hope to give you all a show to remember.
This is during the song "Revelations" (second video), one of Maiden's slower songs still in a heavy vein. This song was a definite highlight for me, as Bruce Dickinson's vocals have a way of making slower, heavy songs really soar whereas other bands merely plod and sink back into blues necromancy for album filler. It's worth noting that not only were Bruce's vocals stunningly on-point, and not only is he a 49 year-old man, but he was able to deliver them all while running all over the stage, leaping to and fro over stage monitors, props and risers. Blues necrophiliacs like the Rolling Stones and AC/DC, that's your cue to be humbled.
I didn't take many pictures for a while, and I should have, because the pyro for "Number of the Beast" was nothing short of mind-blowing. Until that point I had recoiled at pyro at concerts as a toxic streak of cock-rock bombast that strutting, preening rock aristocrats and their would-be successors and understudies used to cover up amateurish songwriting and performances. KISS, anyone? Maiden swiftly buried that preconception as being universal, and I regret not getting more than these few scant pictures:
That one was during "Number of the Beast."
Those were snapped during their moody epic "The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner." The song is a good 14 minutes long and no cakewalk to perform, which knocked me flat all that much more to see them whip it out with such precision. As singers are wont to do, Bruce took a time out to banter with the crowd and try to lead into the song with a discussion on bird-watching, during which he was interrupted by one of the bros at the front tossing a lit joint his way. In the most touching moment of the evening for this recovered drug user, he stomped it out and gently rebuked him by telling the crowd that "the gift of imagination; it comes free without the use of drugs."
Since this tour focused on their 85-88 period, it was inevitable that the song "Powerslave" would come out sooner or later, and the sets never failed to maintain the same level of awesome. Bruce's pharaoh headdress was one of several outfits he'd changed into throughout the evening, along with a British cavalry uniform, black cloak, RAF fighter pilot and more that I doubt I could remember. Once this song is uploaded to youtube, I'll definitely post it because the solo is one of Maiden's best.
Then it was time for the crowd-pleaser "Fear Of The Dark."
Having missed the chance to clearly photograph the three-story tall mummy Eddie that popped out of the sarcophagus set in the background and lurched over the band over and over, I was at least able to catch photos of the 12 foot tall Eddie time-assassin on stilts that came out from the back of the set during "The Clairvoyant" and alternated between harassing the guitarists and helpfully, if clumsily, pointing out which notes they ought to play:
Before kindly departing with a suggestion to the audience as to what they ought to do with their genitalia after the show:
More show pictures pending, but until then, just take me on my word when I tell you that I have seen a lot of bands, big, small and everything in between, and that this is bar none the best show I've ever seen put onstage from any band in any genre. Sell your organs, buy all the tickets and travel arrangements you can and leave your family and loved ones far behind so you can see them as often as you possibly can. I saw them two nights in a row and don't regret a minute of it, everything about the show was beyond my most unrealistic expectations, no hyperbole.
. How much did the tickets cost?
