Heavy metal’s message of peace
After last Monday’s terrorist attack in Manchester, security at the O2 Arena was understandably tight for the penultimate show of Iron Maiden’s UK tour; fans entered through airport-style body scanners while armed police patrolled in abundance. Iron Maiden’s genre – British heavy metal, served out on 16 studio albums since 1980 – may be a world away from Ariana Grande’s polished teenage pop. But in both performance and atmosphere, this show was a roar of solidarity.
When singer Bruce Dickinson thanked 20,000 people for coming and “showing a bold face to those who’d destroy” us, the concert became a display of staunch unity.
Solidarity, yes. But also escapism. Staged in a mocked-up jungleengulfed crumbling Mayan temple, the show was as much theatre as rock. We had a bubbling cauldron and pyrotechnics. We had a 15ft Eddie, the band’s zombie-like mascot, stalking the temple in tribal warpaint. And we had six men – five of whom were in their sixties – playing ear-shredding, galloping heavy metal.
Such is Maiden’s longevity that none of this felt ridiculous. It’s just Maiden. It’s what they do. And it was brilliant.
Maiden shows have their trademark moments. Bassist Steve Harris, in his ever-present West Ham sweatbands, crouching over his amp and machinegunning the audience with his guitar? Check. Guitarist Janick Gers capering like a demonic harlequin? Check. Drummer Nicko Mcbrain… well – invisible behind an enormous kit, the only clue to his presence the rapid tom-tomming of the songs? Absolutely.
Six of the set’s 15 tracks were from recent album The Book of Souls, so classics like Aces High were missing. But such was Dickinson’s vocal conviction and energy – his intense pantomime menace is both serious and knowing, like he’s in on the joke – that the new tracks didn’t bore. For 1983’s The Trooper, he donned his traditional Crimean War outfit and waved a ravaged Union Jack.
After new track The Great Unknown, he spoke about Manchester. “It’s fantastic, for so many reasons, to see so many people here tonight. We all know the terrible thing that happened the other day,” he paused and counted flags in the audience. “I’d just like to point out that tonight we’ve got people from 20 countries here, just as far as I can see. When we’re all together like this, it sends a message of love, of peace, of joy. We don’t care what colour you are, what religion you are, what race, what sex. We don’t give a s---.”
And then, because this is Maiden, a giant Eddie came on stage and had a play fight with the band.
They ended with fan-favourite
Wasted Years. As the crowd filed out, Monty Python’s Always Look on the Bright Side of Life played over the PA, as it does after every Maiden show. Hundreds of fans – who seconds before were punching the air to the band’s ear-splitting guitar assault – formed a circle, linked arms and sang along. In the light of recent events, the post-gig ritual became something else entirely: a moving act of soft defiance.