Iron Maiden - Donington Park 31st May 2003
Setlist: Number of the Beast / The Trooper / Die with your Boots on / Revelations / Hallowed Be Thy Name / 22 Acacia Avenue / Wildest Dreams / The Wicker Man / Brave New World / The Clansman / Heaven Can Wait / Fear of the Dark / Iron Maiden // Bring Your Daughter To The Slaughter / 2 Minutes to Midnight / Run to the Hills
Strawberries and cream. Cookies and milk. Gammon and pineapple. Iron Maiden and Donington. Some things just go together, perfectly. You know?
Iron Maiden and Donington are two such things that have, over the years, become inextricably linked. Oh, you can call it the Download Festival and put some butt-ugly dog on all the ghastly orange and pink merchandise and promo stuff, but this is Donington Park fercrissakes. No matter how much you try to change it, this is the site of the mighty Monsters of Rock legend and always will be.
Strawberries and cream. Cookies and milk. Gammon and pineapple. Iron Maiden and Donington. Some things just go together, perfectly. You know?
Iron Maiden and Donington are two such things that have, over the years, become inextricably linked. Oh, you can call it the Download Festival and put some butt-ugly dog on all the ghastly orange and pink merchandise and promo stuff, but this is Donington Park fercrissakes. No matter how much you try to change it, this is the site of the mighty Monsters of Rock legend and always will be.
In August 1980, I came to the very first festival held on this site. It was a magnificent occasion. The sun shone, the toilets overflowed and the bands played on. That day, the line up of bands was as good as at any festival I’ve ever been to - and I’ve been to a couple over the years, let me tell you, you young whippersnappers.
For my money, this particular festival only had two real heavyweights on offer, the rest being a bunch of ham and eggers, who should be playing travelling freak show tents, not soiling the main stage with their unsanitary dribblings and tuneless thrashings. MurderDulls, ToneDeftones, God how truly awful were they? Oh, unbearably dismal, I can assure you. It’s a good thing that the weather was nice, otherwise people would have been wet and bored, instead of just bored. I saw one young lad gnawing his own leg off during the Deftones coma-inducing dronefest.
For my money, this particular festival only had two real heavyweights on offer, the rest being a bunch of ham and eggers, who should be playing travelling freak show tents, not soiling the main stage with their unsanitary dribblings and tuneless thrashings. MurderDulls, ToneDeftones, God how truly awful were they? Oh, unbearably dismal, I can assure you. It’s a good thing that the weather was nice, otherwise people would have been wet and bored, instead of just bored. I saw one young lad gnawing his own leg off during the Deftones coma-inducing dronefest.
Marilyn Manson
Marilyn Manson, on the other hand is a relatively fresh breath of air in the otherwise stale detuned world of nu-metallic thrash. Disposable Teens is a great track and it was with this song that the freakish one began a lively and quite excellent set. Why Radio One omitted this track from their broadcast of Manson’s performance, escapes me. I suppose it must be something to do with their uncanny ability to alienate listeners and completely miss the entire point of rock music, whilst relying on ladette culture and stultifying dull dance, trance, pants music. That or something to do with not wanting to pay broadcast fees for the best track of the performance.
Anyway, Manson, was unusual; different and eminently watchable. Being that I would hardly have called myself a fan before this day - I have been known to invoke the ‘Alice Cooper did it first’ argument, myself, before now - I rate the guy, because he won me over, on the day. That takes some doing. He came out and was unexpectedly good, both as a performer and personality. The music was strong; you could tap your foot, shake your head and wiggle your ass to it. There were more hooks than in a fly-fishing boutique and there were words that you could sing along to. What’s more, it did all of this whilst retaining some very bad language and controversial themes. To me, that is talent.
You know the other thing I really like about Manson? Those ladies that he has dancing with him. Attired in their mock-Nazi uniforms and bright red knickers, I thought they were the proverbial canine undercarriage. Not because they were scantily-clad and naughty in a way that can only be measured on the Rick James scale of lewd, crude and rude, although that is something else in their favour, but because they were proper women-shaped females, not the heroin-chic, emaciated, starving Biafran, stick insect waifs that seem to be de rigeur these image-conscious days. No, here were two shapely young strumpets who shook it all about and reminded all the red-blooded males in the audience that a woman is not actually supposed to look like an eleven year-old boy, but is supposed to have shape, form and curves. Bravo!
Before I leave Manson, I’d just like to scupper the old Alice Cooper argument, once and for all. Yes, Alice did do the shock thing thirty years ago; I know exactly what Alice can and does do, I’ve seen him often enough over the years. But, if we are getting picky, Alice didn’t invent it either. Screamin’ Jay Hawkins was shocking America in the ‘50s with coffins, skulls and lewd behaviour. Josephine Baker turned it into an art form in 1920’s Paris, such that her talents were only just being appreciated nearly fifty years later, when Alice was impaling dolls on his rapier. What Manson has done is update the art and make it relevant for a new generation. And why not?
Anyway, Manson, was unusual; different and eminently watchable. Being that I would hardly have called myself a fan before this day - I have been known to invoke the ‘Alice Cooper did it first’ argument, myself, before now - I rate the guy, because he won me over, on the day. That takes some doing. He came out and was unexpectedly good, both as a performer and personality. The music was strong; you could tap your foot, shake your head and wiggle your ass to it. There were more hooks than in a fly-fishing boutique and there were words that you could sing along to. What’s more, it did all of this whilst retaining some very bad language and controversial themes. To me, that is talent.
You know the other thing I really like about Manson? Those ladies that he has dancing with him. Attired in their mock-Nazi uniforms and bright red knickers, I thought they were the proverbial canine undercarriage. Not because they were scantily-clad and naughty in a way that can only be measured on the Rick James scale of lewd, crude and rude, although that is something else in their favour, but because they were proper women-shaped females, not the heroin-chic, emaciated, starving Biafran, stick insect waifs that seem to be de rigeur these image-conscious days. No, here were two shapely young strumpets who shook it all about and reminded all the red-blooded males in the audience that a woman is not actually supposed to look like an eleven year-old boy, but is supposed to have shape, form and curves. Bravo!
Before I leave Manson, I’d just like to scupper the old Alice Cooper argument, once and for all. Yes, Alice did do the shock thing thirty years ago; I know exactly what Alice can and does do, I’ve seen him often enough over the years. But, if we are getting picky, Alice didn’t invent it either. Screamin’ Jay Hawkins was shocking America in the ‘50s with coffins, skulls and lewd behaviour. Josephine Baker turned it into an art form in 1920’s Paris, such that her talents were only just being appreciated nearly fifty years later, when Alice was impaling dolls on his rapier. What Manson has done is update the art and make it relevant for a new generation. And why not?
So, to the headliners. It would seem that taking my daughter, and her friends, to the slaughter to see the Irons always ends up with some kind of grief during the first number. Last time, when we were there for Clive, at Brixton, we got held up in traffic, road works and all manner of shit and corruption coming down from the heavens, so much so, we arrived late and missed The Wicker Man. This time we were there in time, just in the wrong place, too close to the front.
Can someone explain why people at these festivals think it is a good idea to push and crush the people at the front? I couldn’t understand it twenty-odd years ago and I can understand it even less now that I have been in a situation, where I was desperately trying to keep both myself and my daughter from being toppled and trampled. It is so dangerous and scary, especially knowing that on this very spot people have died in exactly these circumstances, in the past. Go figure.
Can someone explain why people at these festivals think it is a good idea to push and crush the people at the front? I couldn’t understand it twenty-odd years ago and I can understand it even less now that I have been in a situation, where I was desperately trying to keep both myself and my daughter from being toppled and trampled. It is so dangerous and scary, especially knowing that on this very spot people have died in exactly these circumstances, in the past. Go figure.
Oh, before I get on to the music, fellas, especially the missing-link stood in front of us, if you’re going to take your shirt off; SHAVE YOUR BACK, YOU ROCK APE! No, seriously, I know that as you get older, hair sprouts in places it never did before, but come on, the Neanderthal in front of us was just plain disgusting. That wasn’t body hair, it was a pelt. Even to another bloke, it was revolting. So, in future, shave it, pick up some Veet, or book yourself into the local salon for a back, sack and crack wax, but spare the rest of the civilised world your hairy, sweaty, Australopithecine flipside.
Now then, Maiden at Donington; an institution. It should be an annual event, like Trooping the Colour, or Michael Schumacher winning the F1 World Championship. Do I really need to go on about the music? I don’t think so. Check out the photos on my website or visit my daughter’s website for an in-depth review of the songs.
Bruce and the boys are as good as any other band out there and they always deliver the goods. You know the tunes. Some are as old as the hills, to which we routinely run, but every one is a crowd-pleasing slice of heavy metal heaven. For me they could have played for another two hours and still, I would have screeeeeeamed for more. Come on, you have the air raid siren on vocals, a madman on drums, a nutter playing the bass like it’s going out of style and three, count ‘em, 1-2-3 lead guitarists. Then, there’s a back catalogue of songs that many younger, hipper, less-talented bands would gladly trade their pec implants for.
Now then, Maiden at Donington; an institution. It should be an annual event, like Trooping the Colour, or Michael Schumacher winning the F1 World Championship. Do I really need to go on about the music? I don’t think so. Check out the photos on my website or visit my daughter’s website for an in-depth review of the songs.
Bruce and the boys are as good as any other band out there and they always deliver the goods. You know the tunes. Some are as old as the hills, to which we routinely run, but every one is a crowd-pleasing slice of heavy metal heaven. For me they could have played for another two hours and still, I would have screeeeeeamed for more. Come on, you have the air raid siren on vocals, a madman on drums, a nutter playing the bass like it’s going out of style and three, count ‘em, 1-2-3 lead guitarists. Then, there’s a back catalogue of songs that many younger, hipper, less-talented bands would gladly trade their pec implants for.
So, I ask you, how bad could it possibly ever be? Picture this scenario; it is raining big black slugs and everyone in the band is vomiting internal organs down the porcelain due to food poisoning; and they only have five guitar strings between them because it’s wartime and there is a shortage of metal for nonmilitary items; there is a power shortage and use of electrons is only authorised for military purposes, so there’s no power anyway; the band all have amnesia and can’t remember any of the songs. Pretty bad, eh? Yeah, and they’d still kick ass and knock the Murderdulls and ToneDefTones into a cocked hat! I think I’ve made my point.
Iron Maiden may now be the old boys to some, but they still play their little black hearts out on the stage, every night. I enjoyed their Donington set in 2003 just as much as I did when I saw that bunch of youngsters prowling around the stage back in 1980. Or was it 1908?
Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder
1st June 2003
Iron Maiden may now be the old boys to some, but they still play their little black hearts out on the stage, every night. I enjoyed their Donington set in 2003 just as much as I did when I saw that bunch of youngsters prowling around the stage back in 1980. Or was it 1908?
Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder
1st June 2003
About the photos...
What can I tell you? I'm good. Modesty aside, I was pleased with the way these came out. Once we'd had our little NDE (Near Donington Experience), we found a nice spot, which, considering the size of the crowd, still gave us a good view.
Of course, having a 6x optical zoom helps. It makes such a difference.
Still, after last year's Maiden fiasco, at least this year I got some photos.
Of course, having a 6x optical zoom helps. It makes such a difference.
Still, after last year's Maiden fiasco, at least this year I got some photos.
