overlap

A leisurely start saw me delayed by the roadworks on the M1, but happily not by the expected ranks of fans of the futility circuits at Silverstone. With a small amount of navigational difficulty, I parked up under queenie's castle at Windsor and got on the first train to Twickenham, which gradually filled up with people in leather jackets and Iron Maiden shirts as we got closer. I'm not a huge fan of Maiden, and I guess I think of them as the NWOBHM Beatles, a benchmark for their genre, but my feelings are coloured rather more by them breaking up Wolfsbane when Bruce had a few years off from Maiden. I'd liken it to having your childhood sweetheart run off with some guy that's always in your local pub, a guy whom you can't avoid even though he's not really a mate of yours. Even though last year's handful of gigs were the first Wolfsbane shows in thirteen years, there are still only three or possibly four acts I've seen more times than Wolfsbane. I never listened to Maiden with Blaze singing because I just couldn't face it, and while I last saw Maiden with Bruce back in the fold a few years ago, I suspect that without the recent Wolfsbane shows I might not have bothered with this one. With the benefit of non-wasted years in the meantime, I can understand why it was an opportunity Blaze couldn't turn down, and I don't blame him for it, but all the same it isn't quite water fully under that bridge. Blaze's new album is great, btw! People, people everywhere meant I didn't make it inside the stadium for Lauren Harris' set, but there was a sharp contrast between this and the Springsteen show that I've not got round to coming back to. Where the Springsteen show was characterised by unfriendly and unhelpful stewarding and general stupidity, the Twickenham area police who had closed off the roads, and the staff around the stadium couldn't have been more helpful. Even if the guy who searched my bag on entry wasn't quite sure what to make of my make up bag. Within Temptation bring to mind Julianne Regan fronting Europe around the thunderous Start From The Dark album - great high register female vocals and the sort of muscular euro-rock-with-keyboards that gets my toes tapping. Good start. Avenged Sevenfold benefit from a guitarist looking like Nicky Wire auditioning for Mötley Crüe, but for the most part it's generic shouty plod metal that doesn't get me excited. The singer gains my respect for being sensitive to people having difficulties in the heaving crowd, stopping the song and directing security, but ultimately there's nothing there I'm desperate to listen to again. Policing fifty thousand people is always going to be asking a lot, and the vain attempts of the orange shirted response teams were mildly amusing for all of ten seconds. The amount of plastic bottles in the air around Avenged Sevenfold was visible enough that people were trying to take pictures of it, but people who can afford more than sixty quid including parasite fees are for the most part plenty old enough to know better than to be chucking nearly full bottles of beer over everyone that their pisspoor aim can reach. I was really bored of the spectacle by the time I saw the third person get smacked in the back of the head by a bottle, and while my pictures show you I was close enough to see the stage clearly, I'm old enough to know that what suits me best is maintaining my own personal space and staying away from most of the crowd action as much as I can. Churchill's speech came on the screen, Aces High roared out of the speakers, and the place erupted. Two Minutes To Midnight held the same level of excitement before it dipped for Revelations. First of several costume changes saw Bruce in red waving his flag about for The Trooper, then Wasted Years and Number Of The Beast rounded off the first half dozen songs. Couldn't ask for much more, though Revelations and the full twelve minute Rime Of The Ancient Mariner could perhaps be replaced by five other songs I'd rather hear, and without breaking the momentum of the set. Powerslave sees Bruce in a face mask that looks like an accident in a fascinator factory - check it out on flickr if you don't believe me - Heaven Can Wait and Run to The Hills are majestic in their uptempo galloping Maidenness, before Fear Of The Dark and Iron Maiden bring the main set to a close. Moonchild, The Clairvoyant and a closing Hallowed Be Thy Name mean we've used up a fair few quid's worth of pyro, Eddie's lurched forwards in his bandages, and it's 10.20pm and time to go home. I'm still pleased to have seen a show based around material from that era, and there's no doubt they've put a lot of effort and money into the show. On the way back to the station the police again had everything under control and did a great job. It's interesting to note that the Springsteen show had an awful lot less disruption among the crowd, and even though I rapidly run out of patience with that sort of thing, I still enjoyed the Maiden gig a hell of a lot more. And home just before 2.30am wasn't a bad result either. Here's Steve, but there's plenty more on flickr.

Labels: Blaze Bayley, gigs, Iron Maiden, Wolfsbane