After our bad night in Chicago, I said to LCG, "Iron Maiden better put on the greatest show ever, because they are all that can salvage this trip." I felt bad putting all of the pressure on Iron Maiden, but I have faith in their ability to entertain. And they didn't let me down.
We arrived and were very excited because this was the first concert that either of us had seen in an amphitheater. It was a beautiful evening, sunny, breezy, and not too hot. I was ready for Iron Maiden, but had to first get through Motörhead and Dio. Now, I like Motörhead and Dio. I have seen both Motörhead and Dio in the past, and enjoyed them very much. But they were standing between Iron Maiden and me and I was antsy. The show started a few minutes after we got there, while we were still scoping the booths outside the actual concert area.
LCG: "Do you want to go check out our seats?"
Me: "I. Need. Earplugs."
LCG: "Right now?"
Me: "Yes!"
LCG: "You didn't bring any?"
Me: "I could only find one!"
I buy earplugs so often you would think I could find a pair somewhere in my house. Nope. So I hadn't packed my one earplug for the trip. And even out on the plaza, it was loud. We could see the show because there were televisions all over the place, broadcasting it for the people waiting in line for beer and shirts. Excellent.
LCG decided to go get a beverage and I opted to stay put. So instead of being companionable, I ended up loitering outside the VIP area. The VIP area was just a deck with an little roof made of tent material over it, and it was the kind of VIP area that is open to anyone willing to pay an extra charge for admittance in addition to their ticket price.
I could see into the VIP area (it was just a tented deck, remember) and it was almost empty. To call the crowd in there sparse would be generous. But as I stood there, who walked down the ramp of the deck but Dave Murray and a pal. Dave Murray! I did a slight double take to make sure it was him, but I would know that perfectly round, perfectly pleasant face anywhere.
He paused at the end of the ramp, looking baffled. I presume he was looking for the way to the backstage area. He was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, a handful of laminates, and pants that were cool but not overdone. He and his friend were standing there, trying to decide where to go, and not one person noticed him. Nobody! Dave Murray was right there! A member of Iron Maiden was mingling with the masses and not one person took note. What was wrong with everyone? Granted, he was dressed like every other person there, but come on.
I was hoping that he would look in my direction, so I could give him the smile and nod that says, "I know who you are but I won't hassle you," but alas, he spied a way to the backstage area and took off without a glance in my direction. (I admit though, had it been Steve Harris or *gasp* Bruce Dickinson, I would have scurried right over and hoped that I wasn't too much of a giggling jackass.)
LCG came back and I recounted what I had seen. "That wasn't him," said LCG. "Oh yes it was!" Turns out, he had been treated to a similar view, and he discussed it with the metal guys who were next to him, and they had decided that it was not Dave Murray. What? LCG usually considers me to be a reliable source, since when do two strangers carry more clout? I gave up the fight for the time being, because it was time to go find our seats.
And what fabulous seats they were. We were in the center section, in the exact center of the row, just twenty-two rows back. But it seemed like we were closer than when I had seats in row fourteen so many years ago, and I think we actually were. The rows were more cramped, and they started closer to the stage. And...and...since it is an amphitheater, the rows are on a slight slope, so I could actually see! I can never see at concerts! I drove seven hours to see Iron Maiden and I was going to be able to see them! Outstanding. We were so close that it was entirely possible that my secret fear could come true, which of course is getting yelled at by Bruce Dickinson for misbehaving.
So we were close, close, close and I felt bad, bad, bad because I was mentally rushing Motörhead and Dio. Motörhead was great, loud and fast and tight, and Ronnie James Dio thoroughly understands that his job is to entertain. But finally, Dio's set was over and I was able to sit quietly in my seat, giggling and trying to have a conversation with LCG, but my attention span was shot. As we chatted, a seat jumper appeared in our row and sat down next to LCG. We had a pleasant visit about Iron Maiden and Rob Halford's return to Judas Priest and all of the other things you talk about with strangers at Iron Maiden concerts. And then...then...then...the house lights went down and the crowd got up and it was time to go.
The spoken piece that begins The Number Of The Beast started up and the crowd went insane. One by one the band members appeared, and I started craning and straining, waiting for the first glimpse of *sigh* Bruce Dickinson. But then LCG decided to be helpful. He planted a hand on each side of my waist and started switching spots with me. I lifted one foot and kicked him in the side of the calf as hard as I could.
Me: "What are you doing?"
LCG: "You can't see."
Me: "I can too! I'm looking for Bruce!"
Of course, in the two seconds I took my eyes off the stage, Bruce appeared. Just to get my point across, I hollered, "I can see!" one more time, then turned my attention to the front. Starting the show with The Number Of The Beast accomplished many things. First, it fired the crowd up from the get-go, and second, it showed that Bruce's voice is still in top form when he does the scream near the beginning of the song.
I was also relieved that they started with that number, because due to my religious upbringing I can not, will not bring myself to sing the chorus of that song. That is just begging Bruce Dickinson to bitch me out, but I don't care. In this case, I'll take the risk. While I was busy not singing, I absorbed the band and their fashions. They were all wearing their outfits from the last tour, and I was happy to see Bruce Dickinson's hideous (yet fabulous) plastic pants again. And! And! He was wearing a denim vest. I was wearing a denim vest! Life was good.
Next up: The Trooper, followed by Die With Your Boots On. Now, CEB had provided me with the set list. Upon more recent review, I see that it was a set list that was even in the correct order. I should not have been shocked by anything that night, but every time they started a new song I was pleasantly surprised. Die With Your Boots On is my very favorite ever, and I had not expected to hear it. Even though I had seen the set list.
But then Bruce did some rambling and they started playing Revelations. What? What!? I must not have read the set list for comprehension, because I almost fell down when I heard this. The seat jumper we had befriended looked at LCG with awe and said, "I've never seen them play this live," and then off he went, closer to the front. "Hmm," said LCG, "I guess our seats weren't good enough." I replied, "Don't talk to me any more!" and I would guess I had the same look on my face that the seat jumper had displayed, because LCG nodded pleasantly. "Best! Vocal! Melody! Ever!" I added before I floated away completely.
For a minute I thought I was it was the 1950s and I was at a Fabian show or something, because I actually clasped both hands together and placed them at collarbone level, just like Bugs Bunny does when he is in love. I shut my eyes so I could bask in the brilliance of Bruce Dickinson (and the best vocal melody ever), but then I had an internal battle when it occurred to me that if my eyes were shut, I wouldn't be looking at Bruce Dickinson. I had driven seven hours to look at Bruce Dickinson. I settled on giggling while keeping my eyes open.
Then came Hallowed Be Thy Name (total genius), Wildest Dreams (the new single-it's excellent), The Wicker Man (I love that song and it gave me flashbacks to listening to Brave New World with Goatee), The Clansman (brief debate between me and LCG because we didn't know it. we concluded that it must have been from the Blaze era), The Clairvoyant (brilliant), Fear Of The Dark (crowd participation mania), and Iron Maiden ('s gonna get you).
And to my delight, Bruce started ripping into the crowd after the second song. He spotted someone in the audience and bitched him right out because all he had done so far was drink a beer, light up a stogie, and sit there. "You paid for a rock show, have some fucking fun!" hollered Bruce and I giggled. Then I giggled some more because The Number Of The Beast was over so my chances of getting yelled at were slim to none.
He didn't let anyone off the hook as he ranted throughout the night. He recounted a story that had happened to him recently, where someone had asked him, "So, what have you been doing since Piece Of Mind?" He was super pissed that for that person, Iron Maiden had stopped being relevant in 1983. He also shared with us his no thank you list. He attacked both the music video channels and radio stations of the United States, and also bitched about the record labels. Since he is English, he pronounced it reh-kord instead of my local pronunciation of wreck-erd. Mr. Dickinson, I will listen to you rant for as long as you wish, all you have to do in return is continue saying the word record.
He also had nothing good to say about the corporations that sponsor tours. They were very high on his no thank you list. After a good long rant about record labels, he introduced the new single and said that if any of us had our little tape recorders (reh-kord-erz) with us, feel free to tape the song and then file share it with whomever we want. It was rage-induced generosity, but it was generosity nonetheless.
When Bruce introduced The Clansman, he went off on a long-winded story about the man the song is based on (adding that we know him because his story was told in the movie Braveheart) and rambled about how we (the audience) were probably a lot like The Clansman. Individualists who wouldn't hurt a flea, but if pressed we would fight for what is right and just. *Swoon.*
During The Clansman I turned to LCG and said, "Why is Steve Harris playing the acoustic? They have three freaking guitarists! Why can't one of them do it?" He looked at me funny and when I looked back at the stage I saw that Steve Harris was playing an acoustic bass. "Ohhhhh. It's a bass. That makes sense." LCG thought I knew that and was just having a moronic moment, but we got that cleared right up.
And as long as we were clearing up confusion, I took the opportunity to point out that Dave Murray was wearing the very same pants that Dave Murray was wearing when he walked past me earlier in the evening. I was rewarded with a sheepish, "Oh." I then felt free to mutter about him believing any old metal guys who think they can identify Dave Murray.
After the mix-ups were all fixed, it was time for The Clairvoyant, and I was delighted because Steve Harris spent a good portion of the song hopping up and down, and periodically some of the guitarists would join in the hopping. I thought it was great that so far into the show, they were still operating in full-tilt energy mode. The members of Iron Maiden aren't especially old, but they are in their forties and have a tour schedule as grueling as any band out there, and they still have it in them to hop up and down. They were there to entertain, and I certainly appreciated it.
LCG was a little disappointed with Fear Of The Dark, because he had been listening to the live version from Rock In Rio for several weeks, and during the crowd participation part, he didn't think it sounded big enough. ("There are a few hundred thousand fewer people here." "I know. But still.") During Fear Of The Dark I ended up resting my head on LCG's shoulder and he felt free to give me a little hug. He thought I was being pleasant because we were having a wonderful time at the rock show. "Oh," said I, "I wasn't being affectionate. I was just trying to see Bruce." Since the concert, that has been one of his favorite catch phrases because he doesn't plan to ever let me forget that one.
So they left the stage, and I was trying to figure out what songs would be in the encore. Run To The Hills for sure, but I couldn't think of what else they would use to close the show. Never mind that I had seen the set list. It still wasn't helping me! I was drawing a complete blank. Iron Maiden comes rambling back out and Bruce says, "What time is it?" And I thought, "Yeah, I wonder what time it is, I think I'll check the clock on my phone and why does he want to know....oh. I. Am. A. Moron."
Yeah. He didn't really want to know the time. He was introducing Two Minutes To Midnight.
I. Am. A. Moron.
I am obsessed with the song Two Minutes To Midnight to the point that LCG was surprised to find out that it isn't my favorite Iron Maiden track. A few months ago he was told me that while at the record store he heard my favorite Iron Maiden song. I guessed about five songs until he gave up and said, "You never stop singing this one! Come on!" Just because I will tell you any time of the day or night when it is two minutes 'til the hour doesn't make it my favorite. It just makes me someone who gets extremely happy singing the Two Minutes To Midnight chorus.
And I had forgotten it was on the set list. Best surprise of the night. Okay, second best. I was hyp-no-tized, and then came the guitar solo. Bruce, I believe, has a button on his microphone so he can shut it off at will. I have reason to think this because during the guitar solo, he started yelling at a fan while holding his microphone. We the audience heard no sound, but fortunately, I can read lips. Phrases I caught include, "Cut that out. I mean it." (Making 'cut off' gesture by dragging index finger across throat.) "I'm not fucking kidding. Don't fucking..." (Something. Didn't catch it.) Then he looked away and then looked back at the fan (?) in question. "Don't fuck with me." And I think I also caught an equivalent of, "Don't make me come down there."
Again my hands were clasped over my heart as I swooned. Why does Bruce Dickinson rule so much? He's a crabby badass in plastic pants. Don't mess with him! "Did you see that?" I recounted all I had seen and LCG tried to see who was getting yelled at. He was pretty sure it was the set of seat jumpers that had arrived in our row during Dio, started a fight, then left. It was just a couple of guys throwing a punch or two, then their sets of friends broke it up and all was well. But that particular pair of guys (unlike the friendly seat jumper we were chatting with) were obviously looking for a fight and I can't help but doubly appreciate seeing Bruce's tongue lashing if it was indeed directed at those two.
Run To The Hills closed the show and of course it rocked. Ordinarily at shows when a singer says something like, "I want to see your hands in the air," I think, "Well sir, you can just go ahead and keep on asking, but it's not going to happen." This is not the case at Iron Maiden. When Bruce and Steve start clapping their hands over their heads, I understand that this is non-negotiable. I will clap and I will like it.
When the lights came up, LCG and I were both grinning like nutcases. Mission accomplished. We made it to Chicago for the Iron Maiden concert, and they held up their end of the bargain by playing an excellent show. The concert was well paced, well performed, and well worth the drive.