Reviewed onFriday May 6 (photo by Ashley Mar)
Rarely in their 40-year history have Iron Maiden attracted much attention from music critics. Not that their fans care – it’s simply proof of the snobbish elitism of a media more concerned with finding cultural significance in Taylor Swift’s new hairstyle.
Iron Maiden fandom has been a grassroots movement grown completely outside of the mainstream. And it’s a powerful one. Maiden’s albums have gone platinum around the world. Their 2010 album The Final Frontier reached number one in 28 countries. You might not think you know an Iron Maiden fan, but you probably do.
A sign placed at the exit of Olympic Park station unintentionally serves to unify the black T-shirt wearing tribe streaming out: “X FACTOR AUDITIONS >” – ha, not for these folk.
Maiden’s merchandise machine is in overdrive in the surrounds of the newly named Qudos Bank Arena. Kids convince their parents to buy them the latest tour tee – after previous incarnations as a pharaoh, cyborg, wicker man, grim reaper, alien and soldier, band mascot Eddie returns as a Mayan witch doctor – as The Raven Age rock the stage inside. Guttural and pounding, with soaring melodic vocal lines, the young Brits prove just how influential Maiden have been to the modern metal scene.
Maiden enter with a roar to a stage set up like an ancient South American temple, complete with flaming cauldrons and jungle backdrop. The set is heavy with songs from the new album The Book Of Souls, but not thin on the classics. Bruce Dickinson is in a chatty mood. He dedicates songs to Robin Williams, explains the history of the Mayan people and solves the mystery of who shot down the Red Baron.
Make no mistake, the show is unashamedly theatrical and faintly ridiculous. The rumour that Maiden inspired Spinal Tap would appear to be well-founded – except these guys are acutely aware of their own absurdity. They revel in it.
Steve Harris runs up and down the stage and machine-guns his bass into the audience; there are pyrotechnics, and a ten-foot tribesman who attempts to chop off the head of guitarist Janick Gers. There’s Union Jack waving, guitar solos so long frontman Dickinson is able to take an off-stage break, a scene screen change for every song and a giant inflatable devil.
It’s big, it’s silly and it’s a helluva lot of fun.
