Of all the attractions
of the British Isles, the city of Birmingham is No. 1 on my list. Yea,
verily, we all want to ogle crop circles in Wiltshire, but the metal
wrought life-size of Birmingham ÐÐ whose pounding steel mills make it more
Pittsburgh than anything ÐÐ pretty much birthed heavy metal: Plant and
Bonham, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest andÉthe mighty Maiden.
Iron MaidenÕs last SoCal visit ÐÐ to Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre ÐÐ
was cut seemingly short by the cityÕs uppity midnight curfew, which
prompted absolutely daft front man Bruce Dickenson to sniff, ÓWe wouldnÕt
want to wake the fishes.Ó Thus, it was a comfort to trek to Glen Helen way
out on the 15. (I refuse to refer to these venues by their corporate
sponsor names; the venue was home to the Ô80s US Festival and the Metal
Masters tour two years ago, which featured the last local appearance of one
Ronnie James Dio with Heaven and Hell, who whupped the asses of the
reformed Black Sabbath at Ozzfest hazy days ago, which also took place at
Glen Helen.)
Iron Maiden is the kind of band that makes it unnecessary to seek
out the hot new up-and-comers. Leave it to the pros. Apparently, I am not
alone in this thought, as the glut of fans was so massive it prompted the
band to push their set time back half an hour to accommodate everybody.
The guitar intro of UFOÕs ÒDoctor, DoctorÓ wailed away, the
galloping bass line throwing off the well-behaved crowd. (Maiden has
covered the song before, and played their first West Coast gigs, at the Orange
Pavilion and the Long Beach Arena respectively, in 1981, with UFO.) Against
a black backdrop speckled with red lights and a sci-fi, moon-baselike set,
the band tore into ÒThe Wicker Man.Ó After an appropriately epic chorus, the refrain ÒYour time will
come, your time will comeÓ spoke, as it always does, to my pineal gland.
Considering the socio-economic standing of my Maiden brethren, all good
people, this writer assures you, I imagine the song is an anthem to them as
well.
DickinsonÕs mid-air splits and PSYCH WARD T-shirt highlighted ÒGhost
of the Navigator,Ó which was followed by a smidge of his great wit.
ÒThereÕs at least 25,000 people here tonightÉYouÕd think there was an Iron
Maiden concert going on!Ó A cavalcade of career-spanning Eddie backdrops
were paraded out as the band galloped through songs from 2006Õs A Matter
of Life and Death, 2000Õs excellent Brave
New World, and the title track (and
others) from Final Frontier,
which drops August 17. Then came DickinsonÕs familiar refrain: ÒScream for
me, California!Ó (which apparently sounds cooler than ÒScream for me, San
Bernardino!Ó), followed by ÒEl Dorado,Ó another as-yet-unreleased track
that unaware Angelenos misheard as ÒAlvarado. (Overheard: ÒMaybe they get
tacos at El Taurino, homes.Ó)
Guitarist Janick Yers ÐÐ Skwisgaar Skwigelf made flesh ÐÐ flitted
about as his co-axmen blissed out and bassist Steve Harris, one foot
planted on monitor, stood watch. Introducing ÒWarriors,Ó Dickinson
admonished those who wished to be said warriors: ÒWhatever kind of warrior
you are, you must fight and respect yourself, and you donÕt fucking give up
ÐÐ EVER!Ó
Then came the Bruce we all know and love. ÒWith all
the shit going on in the world,Ó he proposed a ÒOne Metal Government,Ó
where ÒthereÕd be lots of drinking, lots of sexÉeverybody would be totally
deafÉI know we do a lot of songs about death ÐÐ but nobody dies!Ó He next
dedicated ÒBlood BrothersÓ to a mentor of his. ÒRonnie, IÕm not fucking
worthy, even though IÕm three inches taller than youÉÓ It was noted that something cosmic
must be going down that even Maiden was Òdoing some spacy shit.Ó The tour
shirt featured little green EBEs surrounding Eddie planting a flag on the
moon ÐÐ a coded message that change is gonna come?
ÒNo More LiesÓ induced a
massive, spontaneous Òooh-way-oh, ooh-way-ohÓ-along from the audience. Fans
howled at ÒFear of the DarkÓ before being reminded that ÒIron Maiden canÕt
be fought, Iron Maiden canÕt be soughtÓ as Eddie emerged stage right, as he
always does ÐÐ stealing Dave MurrayÕs guitar. The Satanic double team of
ÒNumber of the BeastÓ and ÒHallowed Be Thy NameÓ introduced what I thought
was a new gimmick. As if on cue, Dickinson trolled off the last line of the
song as a single white bird floated out from behind the stage, like a
manifestation of the soul of the condemned man in the song. The bird didnÕt
flee the bazillion-decibel din, but rather sailed slowly straight over what
turned out to be 40,000 heads.
Maiden closed out the show with ÒRunning FreeÓ before Dickinson shot
off backstage. He reappeared, jinnlike, explaining heÕd gone on a shopping
spree at a Dallas army supply store, where he found Òan English policemanÕs
hat!Ó Which, of course, was on his head. ÒIt was a sign from God. WeÕre on
a mission from God.Ó
Although I wonder what the bird would have to say
about that.
Click here to ind that excellent Iron Maiden cover image you heard so much about.
Hallowed Be Thy Mane