"Scream for me Auckland!"

I missed Iron Maiden last time they were in New Zealand, a good 16 years ago now. Buggered if I was going to miss them this time around; with 18,000 odd turning up instead of the 3,000 last time, the odds of me seeing them here again have risen a bit, too.

It was bloody good show, too. Unlike, say, Bob Dylan, Maiden do not sometimes show up and fuck around for half an hour and then sulk off; they turn it on for every show.

This tour was mostly older stuff from the 80s—it kicked off with Aces High and they ran through basically the favourites up until Seventh Son, with the only newer tune being Fear of the Dark. We got a full-length Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Number of the Beast introduced as the song that, “If you don’t know, you shouldn’t be here”.

The whole band were in top form; Bruce Dickinson’s voice is still in excellent shape, hitting most of the highs and holding almost the entire long note from Hallowed Be Thy Name. His banter and crowd control are awesome, with the crowd bawling out the choruses on demand as you’d expect, cheering competitions between the seated fans on either side of the stadium. Also, unlike many a lead singer, he simply disappears off-stage during long instrumentals, rather than handing around and looking like a twat.

Steve Harris is something to see live—I’d never noticed from live videos or photos but he sings almost all of the songs, just not miked up. His bass technique is amazing, plucking strings with all four fingers, one per string, at times.

Dave Murray is at the opposite end of the spectrum, reminding me strongly of John Deacon, noodling around with a little smile on his face. Like Deacon he’s a counterpoint to the main, showy performers in his band, up there, looking pleased as punch in an amiable way. Janick Gers and Adrian Smith showed off shamlessly.

Other good stuff

• I was about 20-30 metres from the stage for most of the gig, which made for some good viewing.
• The PA was awesome. The giant video screens were well set up with good camera work.
• Full stage show meant pyro, flames, giant Eddie stagging about, over half a dozen lighting techs, you name it. Really well done, slick performance.

Bad stuff

• Camera phone is not up to getting decent photos. Meh.
• An early charge by asshats trying to get to the front made life pretty unpleasant for the first few songs. I had to fight to stay on my feet, quite literally. Other, smaller, people were fighting their way out for their own saftey. Not cool.
• A woman collapsed next to me. The guy who she seemed to be with expressed disinterest in propping her up, never mind getting her help. Another bloke and I ended up carrying her out. When she came to with the police and St Johns crew it emerged that the bloke had her money and ticket, as well. If you’re the bloke with the child molester mustache, the camera, and someone else’s stuff, you’re a fuckhead.
• I couldn’t get close to where I’d been when I went back in, and I missed Run to the Hills when I was hauling the aforementioned lady in blue out. Oh well.

A few more things—Dickinson was surprised New Zealand has albatrosses in a crowd conversation re: Rime; someone should suggest he heads down to Dunedin if he has time next trip, and he can see the buggers nesting. Steve Harris’ daughter was one of the opening acts and, well, some of the songs were OK, but she should spend more time working on her singing and stage presence. Her band were way better musicians than she was. Local outfit Chuganaut, on the other hand, did a really good opening set and hung around afterwards to chat.

All in all, a fantastic event. I’ll be there next time…