There are not many bands on my ever-growing live concert catalogue that I’ve seen multiple times. I have a couple repeats in there to be sure, but one act I would happily see on a weekly basis is one of Great Britain’s finest, Iron Maiden.
I had the pleasure of seeing the iconic metal sextet for the third time last week in Hamilton. And when you go to a Maiden concert, you’re not just going to a concert. Think of it as taking in live theatre with the best soundtrack possible. No one show is ever the same as the last, and it never fails to leave an impression.
Iron Maiden is a band I wish that I started listening to 20 or even 30 years ago. I got a very late start on these boys but I’ve made up for lost time; after ‘discovering’ their extensive discography less than 10 years ago I’ve been absolutely hooked. Their sound could be described as a combination of hard rock, progressive heavy metal and perhaps even some operatic elements in there.
Truly, nobody sounds like Iron Maiden except for Iron Maiden.
The sheer effort that goes into their stage designs is staggering, and their small army of crew members must pull off at least half a dozen backdrop changes every show. Pyrotechnics including fireworks and flame throwers wielded by the band’s lead singer, Bruce Dickinson, as well as an eight-foot tall, mummified demon mascot named ‘Eddie’ staggering around the stage in full samurai or British infantry uniform are all part of the scene. A full-size model of a British Spitfire fighter plane also makes a regular appearance during the band’s encore songs. Incredible visuals every single time.
Maiden’s songs are elaborate, and often touch on aspects of history; their lyrics and song construction immediately set them apart from other metal acts during their heyday in the 1980s. To name a couple examples, one of their biggest hits, “The Trooper,” is based on the infamous Charge of the Light Brigade during the Crimean War fought between English and French forces against the Russian Empire in the mid-1800s; more recently, “Empire of the Clouds” released a few years back tells the story of the doomed British airship R101 and its crash during a storm into the French countryside in 1930. The latter is one of my favourite songs ever penned by any band, and at a whopping 18 minutes is one of the longer tracks in music history. But anything worth doing, is worth doing right.
Getting back to the show last week, as the saying goes, ‘you’re only as old as you feel.’ I’m often fond of saying, ‘I don’t feel a day over 58.’
I admit that I may have logged my last floor experience at last week’s concert. If that’s the case, Iron Maiden was as good of act as any to bid farewell to literally being in the thick of things at a live performance. But it’s a younger man’s sport now, and I will resign myself to the fact that I’m far better suited to having an option to sit. Things can sometimes get rough on the floor (in fact a pretty violent fight broke out right next to me during the show) and I’ve never been much interested in such things, especially at a concert that you paid good money to see.
You know you’re getting up there when a couple hours of standing in one spot causes your body to seize up. Three-quarters of the way through the concert I had to move from our prime – but severely congested – spot a mere 20 feet from the stage to further to the back so I could stretch out my legs and back.
Oh what a drag it is getting old, as the Stones once said.
The irony wasn’t lost on me that Dickinson, age 64 and nearly 30 years my senior, is evidently in much better shape than I am, moving around the stage with a seemingly effortless grace and speed. Myself a former lead singer for a cover band a good 15 years ago now, Dickinson sets the bar impossibly high when it comes to frontmen – he is the pinnacle of the summit for live performances. He is also the best singer I’ve heard live hands down; no one else even comes close.
A few weeks ago when I ramped up my regular Maiden listening in anticipation of the concert, I noticed that Finn had perked up his ears. “What’s that, Dad?” he asked me during a rendition of “Fear of the Dark,” and I just smiled. I knew I had him forever then, and my daughter soon followed, highly interested in the song playing on my phone. At the ages of five and three, my kids are already fully invested in Iron Maiden, getting the earlier start on the band that I wish I had received.
I feel I’ve helped them discover an early gift of beautifully-constructed music outside the realm of Cocomelon or Fred Penner. It may be my proudest accomplishment as a parent to date, and I can’t wait until they discover all the other vast wonders of the musical world.
In any case, Iron Maiden is one hell of a first stop.
Thanks for reading and I’ll see you back here in a fortnight.
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This is a bi-weekly opinion piece; for question or comment contact Dan McNee at dmcnee@midwesternnewspapers.com.
