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Iron Maiden
Trivium

14/12/06 Manchester MEN Arena

Review n pix by MWJ

Fear of the dark arena

Ahhh, the memories. The fresh faced/spotty midlength/mullet haired youth I once was at Donington 1988, having survived a Guns and Roses set which literally killed people, lost the friends I went with, found others I didn’t, mudcaked, zombified, existing only on adrenaline, having the day topped off with the unashamed metal majesty of Iron Maiden’s headlining slot. 18 years, ups and downs, pluses and minuses- someone ever so kindly offered me a ticket, frankly surprising indications that they may call it a day before long, dubious about arena venues, my own musical tastes descending into chaos, good experience of renewing Motorhead acquaintance last year, negative vibes about support band, pretty strong recent release, and the chance to hear some classics. Ultimately the metalhead inside me, he say yes.

Hadn’t been to the MEN before, as I said dubious about the whole commercial un-intimate/bring the opera-glasses experience. Once I even opted to see Slayer in a free standing Edinburgh venue as opposed to seats at the Birmingham NEC, and that was a far preferable adventure, sleeping on a motorway roundabout in December etc. Last time I was ever in a seated venue was probably early nineties at the Manchester Apollo. Anyway, it reminded me more of the Millennium Stadium than anything else, with its efficient organisation and wipe-clean concrete sterility. The gift horse-mouth tickets placed us in the back seats facing the (distant) stage, to contact some friends who I’d spotted down on the floor I had to request that the security ask someone else to tap them on the shoulder to come and talk to us, all very controlled. The novelty of the venue experience was more akin to uncomfortableness, but I held on to the belief that surely a band like Maiden could at least put on an arena worthy show

What little I had garnered from previous experiences of Trivium was quite well demonstrated by the 15 year old girl on a quarter bottle of vodka in the row in front of us. She whooped, head banged, collapsed on the floor and went off with her mate to puke. The band weren’t as sick-inducing as I’d expected, solid thrash metal with plenty of marketing work, sold to the kids who wouldn’t necessarily have heard the better stuff the first time around. An impressive drummer standing to play hard at times, kind of evened up by the annoying American rawk stylings off the front man. Getting your biggest cheer of the evening for “let’s here it for I-ron Maiden” seems like second hand applause to me.

Very deftly handled the inter-band changeover means the war-zone setting of the stage is an impressive sight as the lights gradually reveal it at the start of the headliners set. They start with “Different World”, the opener of their pretty strong new album “A matter of life and death” that I’d only got a copy of a week or so previously. Their stage presence has the reminiscently familiar ingredients of the various members. Bruce Dickinson balancing on the monitors at the front (I’d forgotten he was quite diddy, even from this distance) or running around the different levels constructed into their “diorama”. The spandex days are gone, he wears a suit jacket which gets pretty soaked with sweat by the end of the set, and is often taking tiny breaks presumably for refreshments (or oxygen). Steve Harris also left to right and back again, machine gunning the crowd with his bass, Dave Murray and Adrian Smith quite poised in bringing out their harmony guitar work, Nicko McBrain virtually buried behind his huge drumkit. One of the telling factors for me in defining the negative of the arena experience was that we were at a range where you could only see the amusing expressions that Dave Murray is prone to while playing through binoculars that my mate had thoughtfully and non-ironically brought. They are now up to three guitars with Janick Gers but I found him a bit of a poseur compared to the other straight up original metallers. Fair play, he was a master of guitar gymnastics, and maybe that appeals to some rockers but my respect goes to the others without the excessive show but with the music. He might not be a tosser in person, just on stage. In general I did have little awareness of an element of Beavis and Butthead cheesy metal appreciation but that was just one strand amongst many, from musos admiring techniques, through diehard fans, to generation gapped families sharing enjoyment of consistently powerful tunes and energetic showmanship.

After the fourth song in, a particularly synchronised mass fist banging “The Pilgrim” we get the first and quite extended banter from Bruce in his loveable Lahndener way, comparing the crowd to a Kitkat (something to do with all the extra sections), marvelling at their half page review in the Times, and pointing out to those who hadn’t already cottoned on that they were playing the new album in its entirety. As my mate suggested after, this was a pretty ballsy thing to do, demonstrating their confidence in the material (this album has sold reasonably well too) and also the fact that they are not trading on old glories. The recent spat with Sharon Osborne due to them outperforming her ultimate flogged horse husband when playing together in the US maybe further emphasises this difference. That said, it’s often something bands do with an album that has been accepted as a classic rather than a new one but maybe was another example of their prog-rock conceptual influences, to present the experience (largely in relation to war, past and present) as a whole. Personally, not only did I lack familiarity with the material it also removed any element of surprise, kinda committing to the hour or whatever unrolling as it came, and I felt there are definitely a couple of relatively weaker tracks that could have been omitted in favour of some of their out and out classics.

Still, there were the rousing chorus hooks to indulge with and not too much noodling. None of the songs that were 7-9minutes long actually felt like that which I took to be good thing, finding a natural flow to the music as opposed to a forced extended structure. Given an understanding that arena is as arena does, it has to be big as a lot of people want to see them (sold out here), there were bonuses from the production scale. The lightshow was pretty goddamn stunning, you had interchangeable backdrops, Bruce using huge searchlights to illuminate the crowd, and to top it all of the revelation/transformation of an effin’ colossal tank taking over the stage. The iconic mascot “Eddie” emerged from the turret to use his beaming binoculars on the crowd, maybe he could see the smile on my face in focus with them. It should have gone bang but it did manage to eat Adrian Smith which was most amusing.

The album done they add on “Fear of the Dark” (for which I am apparently shamed for not being familiar with, kinda fell in my death metal period) and the obvious anthem “Iron Maiden”. The encore begins with a big hint dropped that they are going to be doing a/the summer festival and playing lots of rare songs, but for the here and now the great enjoyment of hearing the likes of “Two minutes to midnight” and “The Evil that men do”, and seeing the 15foot high squaddie Eddie come for a wander on stage is cut short literally because that’s about it. Maybe they don’t have the stamina for much more, maybe the album had taken more time than realised but again I’d have hoped for more in the way of old stuff to complement the new (No “Number of the Beast”? Maybe they’re as fed up with it as Lemmy with the Ace of Spades). It may have been a different experience if I’d been on the floor/in the crush and closer, and it still will undoubtedly remain very memorable for a long time but it did help reinforce my belief that my enjoyment of music remains in the intimacy and immediacy. Head in the bass bin style.

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