Maiden England 2012 Retrospective

Story and Photos by Kyler Barton

Following my massive story about the cross-cultural appeal of the British heavy metal band Iron Maiden, which can be found here, I decided to compose a series of my thoughts and experiences regarding the band's current U.S. tour.

I pulled up to the gate of the parking lot for the White River Amphitheater. I turned off the ignition, but kept the stereo on. I opened the door, got out and stretched, breathing in the smell of blackberries and cottonwoods. The weather was overcast and cool. In about six hours, I'd be seeing my favorite band live for the ninth time. I had purchased a pit ticket months ago and hoped to be at the barrier in front of the stage.

After the gates opened and I parked, it didn't take long for some of the odors I associated with Maiden shows to replace the natural aromas. Cigarettes. Alcohol. Portable toilets. Fans opened tailgates, rear cargo doors and beers. The music of Maiden and of other metal bands blared from multiple auto speakers and traveled across the wasteland of cracked asphalt and gangly lampposts.

Few people headed to the entrance to venue immediately. I had to wait for my friend Eilif to arrive. Unfortunately, the wait became an ordeal because of the special ticketing conditions forced on me by the ticketing corporations. In an effort to deter scalpers, concertgoers bought "paperless tickets" online for the Maiden tour. The card used in the transaction is scanned at the gate to grant the cardholder, and those for whom the card holder bought tickets, entrance to the venue.

Consequently, I couldn't get into the amphitheater until Eilif was there. After he arrived (and had a few sips of whiskey) we made it into the show, just as the opening band began playing.

I react to Maiden shows in two phases. The first phase is a constant buzz of excitement punctuated with waves of nervousness leading up to the concert. What if my card is denied and can't prove I bought tickets? What if I get a terrible place in the pit? What if the shirts I want to buy are sold out? Once the band takes the stage, though, a feelings of euphoria and ecstasy (in that order) steal over me and the second phase begins.

It starts with a loss of my inhibitions. Although I rarely sing in the presence of anyone, I scream the lyrics along with lead singer Bruce Dickinson. I headbang and shake my fists in time to the music. It's hard to describe excactly what feeling I experience when present at Maiden's performances, but it's something transcendental. I feel I'm part of something greater than myself. For example, I'm part of the relationship between the members of Maiden and the audience. I'm part of that fierce energy, the feedback loop that the band tenaciously demands and the crowd eagerly fulfills.

I was still in the nervous phase after clearing the gates. Nicotine breezes blew around me, occasionally interrupted by the smell of cheap beer turned expensive in the hands of the venue vendors. Not only was I certain all the good places in the pit were taken, I still had to hit the merchandise booths. My fanaticism for Maiden is likely only matched by my relentless pursuit of the band's T shirts.

One of my paranoid fears was realized after Eilif and I stood in line for half and hour at one of the booths. I reached the counter  and learned some of the shirts I wanted had sold out in my size. I bought nearly all of the ones that hadn't, which meant that I now own more than 70 Maiden shirts. I lashed my new purchases to my belt and we finally headed to the pit.

We entered the pit during the last few bars of the opening band's final song. Fortunately, as I had been constantly telling myself, the pit wouldn't be full and some folks who were already there would leave during the set change. Sure enough, the pit folks began milling about or heading to visit the bathroom or to buy food and beer as the PA went silent.

I nonchalantly weaved my way toward the barrier even though a solid line of bodies, two rows deep, was packed along the steel railing. Like a lion picking the weakest gazelles to pursue, I moved as close as I could to a cluster of smaller people in the pit. In my previous concert experience, those people don't last long once the concert starts. After a few songs, they signal the security team members, who are between the opposite side of the barrier and the stage, that they need out. After they are pulled to safety, it's easier to fill their void.

Lucky for me, that's exactly what happened. The crushing wave of bodies can cause physical pain and the heat and smells sometimes make it hard to breathe. The forces of the pit are not to be underestimated.

Once Maiden's crew had the stage prepared, the opening lines of "Doctor Doctor," by UFO caught the crowd's attention and a roar of approval and anticipation drowned the mellow guitar riff. I caught parts of the music as the audience sang along. By the time went out on the stage, the seats in the venue were filled with anxious fans.

A choir and orchestral score blasted through the amphitheater and lights flashed in time to the music. The crowd pushed me forward. I stepped onto the barrier baseplate, almost as close to the stage as it was possible to be.

The intro music ended and the black drapes shielding the stage set fell away as the melody of an acoustic guitar, marking the beginning of "Moonchild," echoed through the amphitheater. Although the music wasn't generated live, drummer Nicko McBrain appeared behind his kit and added a few crashing cymbals to the mix.

As "Moonchild" progressed toward the first verse, the sudden live crack and roll of the snare drum signaled the rest of the band's imminent arrival and another push from the anxious pit audience knocked me forward. Fireworks flared and the lighting rig came to life as the members of Maiden took the stage.

Despite McBrain's admission to reporter Ed Masley of azcentral.com that the band plays their material slower during concerts now, "Moonchild" and the following song "Can I Play With Madness" both sounded as fast as ever. Speaking of sound, it wasn't ideal. For example, some solos from guitarists Dave Murray and Adrian Smith were nearly inaudible, but that's likely because I was in the pit on the opposite side of the stage from them. Guitarist Janick Gers, who kicks, runs, and is almost always moving at concerts, was in front of me for most of the show and the notes he played came through perfectly. The pleasure of being in the pit and close to the band leads to a poorer audio experience.

Not to say that it ruined the show for me. Maiden dusted off "The Prisoner," which the band hadn't played live since the early 90s, and I went nuts. It's one of my favorite songs to play along to on drums and features amazing solos that flow into each other to create a composition I listen to over and over again. I screamed along, as did everyone nearby, with Dickinson, especially when he held the mic toward the audience to invite such behavior.

"Two Minutes To Midnight" came next. By that time I had managed to reach the barrier. From that moment on, Gers or founding member and bassist Steve Harris stood above me, their fingers flying across the strings of their instruments. During "Two Minutes To Midnight" Harris pointed directly at me during the final verse of the song. I screamed my approval and received high fives and pats on the back from fellow fans.

Dickinson took a moment to describe what Maiden was about to play.  The song is about a solider who suddenly realizes the inner conflict he's facing with needing to kill a human enemy he doesn't know, Dickinson explained. It's about the soldier trying to reconcile the difference.

The aptly titled song "Afraid To Shoot Strangers" is one of my favorites. I had never seen it played live and it is the song I recall listening to that inspired me to start playing drums. Fog roiled across the stage as Dickinson placed the mic on its stand and the band played the first notes of the mellow, melancholy introduction. "Afraid To Shoot Strangers" kicked into high gear and Harris and Gers took the opportunity to run to opposite sides of the stage without missing a note. In addition to being one of my favorite songs, it was also a personal highlight of the concert.

Lead singer Bruce Dickinson performs at the White River Amphitheater near Auburn, Wash. on July 30, 2012 during the "Maiden England North American Tour 2012."

"The Trooper" and "The Number Of The Beast" followed and both sent the audience into a frenzy. Both songs have catchy singalong choruses and feature the aggressive sound and style that made Maiden famous. Dickinson dressed as a British solider, complete with an enormous union jack that he draped over Gers's face (Gers played the solo perfectly), during "The Trooper." Dickinson also ran to both sides of the stage gesturing to the audience to belt the chorus.

After tossing the flag offstage, Dickinson had a quick costume change and was probably happy to get out of the long sleeves because "The Number Of The Beast" was backed up with a lot of pyrotechnics. Spires of flames rose in time to the music and to Dickinson's screams and commands. Every time the fire burst toward the lighting rig, a blast of heat swept over me.

Guitarist Adrian Smith plays "The Number Of The Beast" near Auburn, Wash. Smith joined Iron Maiden in 1981, left the band in the early 90s and returned in 1999. 

The next song was another treat for me and likely for the majority of the crowd because it was from the first album. The cries of delight erupted the moment the backdrop slid into view, depicting Maiden's zombie mascot Eddie pulling off a mask as he stood before a pipe organ. "The Phantom Of The Opera" compelled me to start headbanging along with those around me. Toward the end of the song, Dickinson summoned the fires again and orange tongues leapt to life, gusting heat across the crowd.

Bassist and founding member of Iron Maiden Steve Harris sings during "The Phantom Of The Opera" while performing near Auburn, Wash.

Probably the most well-known Maiden song, "Run To The Hills," came next. Although I've heard and seen it multiple times, live and otherwise, I'm always mesmerized by the speed and control Harris demands of his fingers as they are literally a blur on his bass strings. The appearance of Eddie on the stage also caught my attention. Standing about 15 feet tall, he emerged with fireworks spitting sparks all around the stage dressed as Custer. His head wobbled and his arms swung in an ungainly fashion while he brandished a sword held in his white, bloodstained glove. Gers held up his guitar so Eddie could strike it with his free hand.

Eddie storms the stage while the rest of the band reacts. From left to right: lead singer Bruce Dickinson, guitarist Dave Murray, guitarist Adrian Smith, guitarist Janick Gers and bassist Steve Harris.

Eddie hadn't even made backstage before the band rushed into "Wasted Years." Another favorite, the song has always reminded me to keep things in perspective. No matter how difficult times have been or how rough they are going to be, the message I've always taken from "Wasted Years" is to live in the moment and make the best of what I've got. The power of that message comes across much stronger when I'm standing just feet away from those who are generating it.

Guitarists Dave Murray (left) and Janick Gers play during the song "Wasted Years" near Auburn, Wash.

Another highlight was witnessing the most epic song of the evening that ran more than 10 minutes. I can't even estimate the number of times I've listened to the song and wished I could see Maiden play it. My dream came true as the sound of "Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son" the title track to, you guessed it, Maiden's seventh studio album, filled the amphitheater. Although heavy at first, my favorite part of the song is also the quietest. A calm interlude lasts for a few minutes, but what always catches my attention is McBrain's steady roll on the hi-hat cymbals. I've played along with the song and maintaining a steady rhythm isn't tricky, but keeping my place so that the build back into song's conclusion begins on time is hard. It's a fine piece of percussion and it was terrific to the see the band perform it. Not only that, one of my favorite incarnations of Eddie appeared above the drum kit. A bristle-haired scowling face with a terminator-like lens in one eye, and a long quill poised near a large mystical disc–perhaps a device used for clairvoyant applications.

Lead singer Bruce Dickinson recites lyrics in the middle of the song "Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son" as Eddie sits poised behind him.

And the song that followed was, appropriately, "The Clairvoyant." Off of "Seventh Son," which was a concept album, the lyrics to the "The Clairvoyant" fleshed out some of the mythology surrounding the Seventh Son as a character who had powers of healing and predicting future events. As if the the bass intro and drumming on the song weren't catchy enough, the song also has some of my favorite Maiden lyrics, such as, "there's a time to live, but isn't strange/as soon as you're born, you're dying."

The crashing beginning to "Fear Of The Dark" elicited screams of approval from the audience and showed that, although not a song from the era the tour focused on ("Afraid To Shoot Strangers" also fits this category), it didn't matter. The melodic part of the introduction inspired poorly-executed "waves" in the audience, but the noise of everyone vocalizing the melody nearly covered the sound of the guitars. Once the song got going, of course, headbanging, jumping, fist pumping, and general mayhem took over as the band delivered a strong, solid performance, proving this crowd favorite was justified in every way.

Lead singer Bruce Dickinson gestures at the crowd from his position on a catwalk during the performance of  "Fear Of The Dark" near Auburn, Wash.

As always, the band's anthem "Iron Maiden" was part of the setlist. The audience chanted the lyrics with Dickinson and back at him when prompted. The thudding drums and bass and guitars echoing off one another created a solid feedback loop with the audience. At the middle of the song a few crashes on the hi-hats and Harris played his short bass solo with McBrain offering a supportive, descending fill across his multiple toms. Then came the fire and yet another version of Eddie.

He rose again from behind the drum kit. In one hand he held a twitching object that resembled a fetus. Modeled after the "Seventh Son" album cover, this Eddie had been on stage during the 1988 tour. Now he had been overhauled and looked much more commanding, the kitschy animation of the Seventh Son in his hand was magnificent and a great example of Maiden's commitment to putting on an entertaining show, both musically and theatrically. As the song concluded, a torch of flame ignited the top of Eddie's head (everything from the forehead up was missing anyway).  The band threw some of their picks, wristbands and drumsticks into the crowd before retreating backstage.

Bassist Steve Harris lifts his bass as he stands before the drum kit at the conclusion of "Iron Maiden," while Eddie's head goes up in flames.

I remember watching one of Harris's wristband falling toward me. I lunged as much as I could and my hand closed around it. Catching the wristband was another highlight of the evening. I didn't have much time to savor the moment, though, because the encore began with the sound of Winston Churchill's voice, marking the beginning of "Aces High."

The band returned to the stage just before the first verse began with blazing flames and a snarling backdrop of Eddie in a fighter plane to add to the spectacle. He gestured to the crowd to sing along and saved one last scream for the end of the song, displaying his vocal prowess that earned him the nickname "the air raid siren." Although his voice has lowered with age, Dickinson's pipes are still in remarkable shape. The energy he and the entire band possessed toward the end of such a demanding concert was nothing short of impressive.

"The Evil That Men Do" came next in the encore set. The song galloped onward with precise beats on the  kick drum from McBrain and the solid bass line from Harris. The song contains a couple two blast note breaks that give Harris the opportunity to raise his bass and point it at the crowd, jerking it to mimic the kickback from a gun. Dickinson also orchestrated the audience to call back parts of the chorus.

"Running Free" brought the concert to a close in spectacular fashion. It's another of my favorite songs. The steady beat from McBrain across the snare and toms started people clapping in time and then singing with Dickinson the story of a teenager who's up to no good. It's a solid composition, well executed as always and, as usual, Dickinson introduced the members of the band during an extended break when only McBrain and Harris carry the song. Once it picked up again, Dickinson encouraged the crowd to scream the final lyrics before the band concluded the show.

As people began clearing around me, I threw a couple issues of the newspaper containing the extensive story I'd written about Maiden onto the stage. As Eilif and I walked out of the venue with the sound of Eric Idle  singing "always look on the bright side of life" coming over the PA, I looked back and saw the papers still near the speakers as the crew swarmed the stage to break down the set.

The show was a blast. Only when a car rolled by with the song playing did I realize "Hallowed Be Thy Name" hadn't been on the setlist. It's Harris's favorite song and it had been part of every tour since it came out on "The Number Of The Beast" album. Even so, it was worth the exchange to see songs like "The Prisoner," Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son" and even "Afraid To Shoot Strangers."

Although normally somewhat let down after a show simply because it's over, I had more Maiden concerts to look forward to. In a little more than a week, I'd fly to California to catch the last two shows in that state. Stay tuned for the upcoming account of that adventure.

Bassist Steve Harris encouraging the audience to sing along during "Wasted Years."