Iron Maiden delivered a monstrous metal blow to a rain drenched, beer soaked, weed stenched crowd of however many thousands at the recently re-Christened Comcast center. Maiden has arrived yet again, and their legions of fans continue to span generations, proving that this juggernaut that has had zero mainstream radio play transcends the power play pimp pusher of pop rock that had condemned Maiden to the scrap heap of Raven, Armored Saints and the like. Long after the mass produced shit is forgotten 15 year olds with acne are STILL buying "Number of the Beast". Up the Irons and kill your TV's, truth comes via Eddie LP cover art and the lyrics of thought. Sadly, I won't be able to add last nights ticket stub to my collection-----the "ticket" for the show was a FUCKING .PDF How un-metal is that?
Last night's scene was perfect. As Maiden took the stage, thunder clouds and lighting in the distances accompanied the quintessential Maiden opening salvo of Churchill's famous 'defend our Island' cry. Blast. The members of Maiden rattled off a set that brought the audience to a fist pumping fury of unbridled masculine rage fueled by cheap beer, superb marijuana all to a soundtrack of timeless galloping Maiden tunes.
This aural assault unearthed the memories of "Scream for me Long Beach! Scream for me Long Beach!" With the notable exception of "Wasted Years" being played live, Maiden stuck to their mid 80's early 90's classics, treating the sopping fans to rousing renditions of Powerslave, Revelations, Aces High and closing out the night with the beautiful Hallowed by Thy Name. (No Flight of Icarus curiously)
Maiden's fan base has under gone an interesting few metamorphisms. Certainly, the trench coat mafia degenerates of working class pick up truck hick towns were, and will always, be represented by legions of the greasy haired-they were here. Vicious jock types have joined the fray and oddly created a mosh pit in the steeply angled lawn section. This made for some interesting humor as some stoned youngster made a 40' slide down the slope as some large bicep-ed lacrosse type planted a cloven hoof into the mud covered maiden twirp. Not a fan of Slayer-these scenes offer another reason why.
The most exceptional and note worthy evolution of the fan base was the number of clearly either active duty or recently out of military types. My sense, these white walled fans were the very parted mullet headbangers in 1986 that this society wanted to cast off the grid. Now these very cast offs are the heroes of a nation at war. The circle of life played out as a typical Maiden fan evolves from dime bag slinging punk to 50 cal blasting uniformed assassin. Hoorah and the next beers are on me.
Lest I forget, at the upper corner of the lawn section, during "2 Minutes to Midnight" I witnessed a chubby couple having sex. Security having retreated to the drier areas of the venue allowed for an anarchy-like dark festival atmosphere. Weed smoking was wonderfully rampant, in fact some chick named Jen who works at a casino in Connecticut got my friend and I heavily hazed on a joint that managed to stay lit during heavy rain. Jen, your karma was kind-may you hit the slots for $2 million. People like you deserve as much.
Iron Maiden-to those who know, represents more than music, Maiden represents timeless excellence and value.
