Somewhere back in time, around the mid-80’s at South Side Middle School on Long Island, some friends and I were talking about Iron Maiden and their mascot Eddie, a zombie-like figure who was/is on all their album covers and merchandise. The artist Derek Riggs created Eddie, and on each record would illustrate him in different situations or guises, like as a pharaoh or futuristic cyborg. Back then, Maiden released an album a year, so you didn’t have to wait too long for whatever came next with the character. Where would he pop up this time? Also, the first illustration of Eddie was titled, “Electric Matthew Says Hello.” His original name was Matthew, just like me? When you’re a 12-year-old music fanatic, minutiae like this tends to be remarkable.
None of this would matter if the music weren’t any good. And Iron Maiden have a killer catalog, no pun intended. But they were brilliant to spotlight Eddie, who aside from being very lucrative for them, helped get fans invested in the band and made us feel like we were part of a community. Millions of imaginations were stirred, helping to build an impressively vast, loyal global fan base.
On this particular day at school, our conversation occasionally found us chanting Maiden lyrics such as, “I’m running free, yeah!!” At one point, Johnny, a mini-greaser who favored sleeveless t-shirts, now commonly known by the cringeworthy term “wife-beater,” came over to us. When Johnny looked in the mirror, it’s likely he saw Matt Dillion in Rumble Fish. Everyone else saw Sha Na Na.
Johnny inquired, “Hey, whatta ya guy’s talkin’ about?”
Marty replied, “We’re talkin’ about Eddie!”
Intrigued by his answer, Johnny followed up, “Eddie and the Cruisers?”
With a proud smile, Marty said, “Nah, man, Eddie Maiden!”
As far as anyone knew, Eddie didn’t have a last name. While Johnny seemed disappointed, we thought we were cool talking about a monster and grown men who wore spandex.
Three decades later, I was a grown man walking into Madison Square Garden to see Iron Maiden, when another grown man yelled to no one in particular, “UP THE IRONS!!!” Despite this being the salute of Iron Maiden fans, the response he received was mainly indifference and a smattering of weak, “Yeahs.”
In the five month’s since I’d last been at MSG, the Paris terror attacks occurred, and the venue now had metal detectors, serving as an unfortunate reminder that the world had increasingly become more frightening than even an Iron Maiden album cover. Surprisingly, no one made any corny jokes about metal detectors at a heavy metal show. Probably for the best.
Walking by the merch stand, a guy looked at the shirts, shook his head incredulously, and exclaimed, “$40 for a shirt!” adding an expletive for emphasis. He would’ve gotten along with the George Takei guy from the Cult show. (http://seemyway.com/2016/02/28/thank-you-kindly-the-cult-live-at-the-gramercy-theatre/) Going up the escalator, a man warned his friend, “We gotta see these guys while they’re still alive.” Like angry shirt guy, he also made sure to add some expletives to stress the urgency. He did have a point though, especially with the death tsunami striking the music world the last few months.
About a half-hour later, “Doctor Doctor” by UFO blasted from the PA. It’s the song Maiden always play before they begin, so the sold out crowd got instantly rapturous and sang along. UFO never had more than a cult following in America, so it was gratifying to see an entire arena honor a band that should’ve been as big as the groups they influenced, like the one that was about to take the stage right … the Garden was abruptly swathed in darkness. An animated video popped up on the giant screens showing Ed Force One, the Iron Maiden airplane, being thrown into the air by Eddie’s gigantic hand. Fog then emanated from the stage, with four cauldron fires lit at the top. They were a long way from the Cart and Horses Pub in Stratford.
“If Eternity Should Fail” and “Speed of Light” got the night off to a strong start, spotlighting their most recent album, The Book of Souls. The latter song is like vintage Deep Purple, with a “Highway Star”/”Burn” riff that makes you want to floor it like Ryan O’Neal in The Driver, and an opening primal scream from Bruce Dickinson that justified his nickname, “The Air Raid Siren,” indicative of the kind of operatic, metallic singing that Purple vocalist Ian Gillan originated.
Dickinson will demand the audience scream for him everywhere they play, using the name of the state, city or venue. Repeatedly. Two songs in, he unleashed his trademark plea, “Scream for me, New York City!!!!” After we complied, he then let loose, putting all of us to shame, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” It was their first New York show since his diagnosis and recovery from tongue cancer. Seeing a 57-year-old cancer survivor running/screaming for two hours and performing at an exceptional level, was witnessing an astounding exemplification of resilience, showing what a truly determined individual can accomplish. That may sound trite, but another new song, “Tears of a Clown,” written for Robin Williams and featuring a mammoth groove on par with Led Zeppelin, served as a grim reminder of the bleakest of alternatives.
As a 10-year-old in the summer of ‘83, there was a wide range of stellar music on the radio and MTV to devour. Below are twenty examples;
Eurythmics-“Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).”
The Fixx-“Saved by Zero.”
Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble-“Love Struck Baby.”
Prince-“1999.”
INXS-“The One Thing.”
Tears for Fears-“Change.”
Eddy Grant-“Electric Avenue.”
R.E.M.-“Radio Free Europe.”
Jackson Browne-“Lawyers in Love.”
Zebra-“Tell Me What You Want.”
The Motels-“Suddenly Last Summer.”
The Police-“Every Breath You Take.”
Lindsey Buckingham-“Holiday Road.”
Herbie Hancock-“Rockit.”
Donna Summer-“She Works Hard for the Money.”
Neil Young-“Wonderin’.”
Robert Plant- “Big Log.”
David Bowie-“China Girl.”
Irene Cara-“Flashdance… What a Feeling.”
Iron Maiden-“The Trooper.”
Even amongst that eclectic list, the last one stands out. You definitely wouldn’t be hearing “The Trooper” at Hot Skates, the local roller skating rink. The opening line, “You’ll take my life but I’ll take yours too!” is one of the great beginnings to any song. On the screens was the illustration from the single, where Eddie wears a red coat uniform, standing amidst the carnage of the Battle of Balaclava in 1854 during the Crimean War, holding a bloody sword in one perpetually putrefying hand, and a tattered Union Flag in the other.
As always, for this part of the show, Dickinson dressed like Eddie and also held the Union Flag, shouting lyrics such as, “The Bugle sounds, the charge begins!” It’s at this moment you realize that an Iron Maiden concert is equal parts ground warfare and Broadway production. The three-guitar attack of Adrian Smith, Dave Murray and Janick Gers is exactly that, an attack, with a near-constant barrage of riffs and shredding. Smith’s bluesy aggression contrasted perfectly with the more classical-influenced Fender Stratocaster poetry of Murray. Gers, who replaced Smith for almost ten years and stuck around when he came back, entertained the crowd with his showmanship, performing Ritchie Blackmore circa ’73 guitar flip/dance maneuvers. However, at times it looked as if he was putting the “tap” in Spinal Tap.
Bassist/lyricist/founder Steve Harris did his usual routine of putting one foot on the monitor and pointing the bass at the audience like a rifle, all the while playing like a virtuoso. Nicko McBrain, the Englishman in Boca Raton, held everything together on the drums with incredible power and precision. Meanwhile, Dickinson emoted and whisked across the stage as if he were frantically looking for Jean Valjean.
Considering what he’s been through the last few years, Dickinson sounded excellent, his range and theatricality showing why Lady Gaga has mentioned him as an influence. Although like some singers as they get older, his voice occasionally resembled Mel Brooks high-pitched, off-key yell from The Muppet Movie, in the scene when he shouted, “SEND YOUR FROGS LEGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGS!!!”
The setlist was a mix of outstanding new material with classics like “The Number of the Beast,” “Powerslave,” and “Hallowed Be Thy Name.” Towards the end, Dickinson paid tribute to the crowd by acknowledging how diverse it was. He wasn’t kidding. There were people you normally don’t see at a metal show, or any rock concert, for that matter, like the bearded man wearing a yarmulke, lots of Latin couples and two men who turned out to be a guy and his lady pal wearing matching Bill “Moose” Skowron buzz-cut flat-tops. Then there were the many fans down in front holding up the flags of their countries. After “The Book of Souls,” this unlikely collection of individuals cheered when the gigantic tribal version of Eddie trudged around the stage wearing a loincloth, brandishing an axe and giving everyone the middle finger.
You never know what will bring people together. Up the irons.
Matt Leinwohl