Iron Maiden - Hammersmith Apollo London 2nd September 2005
Setlist: The Ides Of March(tape) / Murders In The Rue Morgue / Another Life / Prowler / The Trooper / Remember Tomorrow / Run To The Hills / Wrathchild / Revelations / Where Eagles Dare / Die With Your Boots On / Phantom Of The Opera / The Number Of The Beast / Hallowed Be Thy Name / Iron Maiden // Running Free / Drifter / Sanctuary
Two things struck me as I sat watching Pig Iron at the Carling Apollo, Hammersmith, London:
1) They were really quite good.
2) I had only seen Maiden days before at the Leeds Festival.
Two things struck me as I sat watching Pig Iron at the Carling Apollo, Hammersmith, London:
1) They were really quite good.
2) I had only seen Maiden days before at the Leeds Festival.
Actually, three things occurred to me:
1) Pig Iron were really good.
2) I had seen Maiden just days before at Leeds.
3) This was the first time I’d been here since Valentine’s Day 1982.
OK. OK. Four things came to mind:
1) I was thoroughly enjoying Pig Iron.
2) I had frozen my bollocks off watching Maiden in a field at the weekend.
3) The last time I’d been here was 23 years ago.
4) It used to be called the Hammy O and, they might change its name but it was still an Odeon to me!
So, five things… Yeah, I think I’ve made my point. If anyone figures out what the hell it is, let me know. Ta.
1) Pig Iron were really good.
2) I had seen Maiden just days before at Leeds.
3) This was the first time I’d been here since Valentine’s Day 1982.
OK. OK. Four things came to mind:
1) I was thoroughly enjoying Pig Iron.
2) I had frozen my bollocks off watching Maiden in a field at the weekend.
3) The last time I’d been here was 23 years ago.
4) It used to be called the Hammy O and, they might change its name but it was still an Odeon to me!
So, five things… Yeah, I think I’ve made my point. If anyone figures out what the hell it is, let me know. Ta.
Of course, you’re all intelligent human beings and you know I’m stalling. Playing for time. Padding the review out. Waffling. Going on and on and on and on and on and on and on about nothing in particular. I could keep this up for at least 2000 words, maybe more. I’ve done it before. In fact, I do it with most of my reviews, to tell the truth. A platitude here, a digression there, maybe an observation thrown in for good measure, all under the guise of background information but, really, it’s just to make up the word count so that the text on the page doesn’t run short and leave the pictures alone in empty space.
This time it’s more difficult than usual. Why?
Well, if you’d been paying attention, you’d know that I only saw Maiden a few days earlier at Leeds Festival and, having only just written a review about an almost identical show, I’m pretty much out of things to say.
This time it’s more difficult than usual. Why?
Well, if you’d been paying attention, you’d know that I only saw Maiden a few days earlier at Leeds Festival and, having only just written a review about an almost identical show, I’m pretty much out of things to say.
I mentioned platitudes earlier in this review. I’d like to talk a little more about that. The scientific name for the platitude is Ornithorhynchus Anatinus. It lives in the streams, rivers, and lakes of Eastern Australian coastal regions. It has short, dense dark-brown fur, a 2-inch wide bill, hairless, webbed feet, a flat, furry tail, and a body that can be up to 2 feet in length.
What is really odd about the platitude is that it lays eggs, yet is a mammal. In reality it is an amazing creature that's just very specialized to do what it does best: swim, eat, and burrow! Living on the banks of bodies of water, the platitude burrows 50 feet long tunnels and uses its webbed feet to doggy-paddle around. The bill is a stream-lined nose and mouth for seeking out bottom-swelling delicacies like shrimp. Perfectly designed for underwater life, the platitude has two layers of fur. The first is short and dense and never lets water through to the skin; the second is longer and is the layer of fur that gets wet. The flat furry tail (similar to a beaver’s) stores fat for the long cold winter in freezing waters.
What is really odd about the platitude is that it lays eggs, yet is a mammal. In reality it is an amazing creature that's just very specialized to do what it does best: swim, eat, and burrow! Living on the banks of bodies of water, the platitude burrows 50 feet long tunnels and uses its webbed feet to doggy-paddle around. The bill is a stream-lined nose and mouth for seeking out bottom-swelling delicacies like shrimp. Perfectly designed for underwater life, the platitude has two layers of fur. The first is short and dense and never lets water through to the skin; the second is longer and is the layer of fur that gets wet. The flat furry tail (similar to a beaver’s) stores fat for the long cold winter in freezing waters.
Although the platitude actually has very good eyesight and sense of smell, it closes its eyes and ears underwater, locating food in the murky depths through its electrically-sensitive bill, detecting the small electrical currents put out by its prey. Platitude bills aren't like those of birds, they're soft, flexible cartilage, like our noses.
Male platitudes have spurs on their hind feet through which they can deliver poisonous venom, powerful enough to make a human sick, or kill an average dog.
Female platitudes usually lay two eggs, less than an inch long, that stick to the fur on her belly. The young bust their way out with an egg tooth, attaching themselves to the mother’s underside, sucking milk from the fur, which has been soaked by nearby glands.
Oh, wait a minute, that’s a bloody Platypus. That’s an entirely different thing.
Bugger!
Male platitudes have spurs on their hind feet through which they can deliver poisonous venom, powerful enough to make a human sick, or kill an average dog.
Female platitudes usually lay two eggs, less than an inch long, that stick to the fur on her belly. The young bust their way out with an egg tooth, attaching themselves to the mother’s underside, sucking milk from the fur, which has been soaked by nearby glands.
Oh, wait a minute, that’s a bloody Platypus. That’s an entirely different thing.
Bugger!
So, there I am, standing in the middle of the Hammy O, camera at the ready, waiting for Iron Maiden to take to the stage. Both offspring have ventured down to the front in the hope of catching a plectrum, a wristband, a drumstick, or some of Dave Murray’s sweat.
It’s never easy taking pictures at a Maiden gig. It’s not just the fact that the building is packed to the rafters, I can cope with that. Hell, I’ve been going to gigs for long enough and if it hasn’t killed me by now, I figure I’m good for a few more years yet. It’s not even the fact that everyone, seemingly, always has there arms aloft, devil horns pointing towards the stage, obscuring my view. It isn’t even the jumping up and down, throwing beer all over anyone within ten yards. (Why do people do that? I mean, it’s not cheap to buy a pint, even that disgusting urinal drainage they serve down South. So, why waste it? Obviously, metal fans have loads of money.) No, it’s the sweaty, hairy-backed, homunculus mongoloid, rock-ape hump that always seems to be standing in front of me at Maiden gigs. As immovable as the Rock of Gibraltar, and as dumb as a box of rocks, this Neander valley native and his hoard of furry-assed, inbred, cretinous cousins is always blocking out my light and invading my personal space whenever I venture forth to see this bloody band. And why do they always have to take their t-shirts off? And have they never heard of anti-perspirant? Come on, a back, sack and crack wax is obviously well overdue, and there has been no call for a pelt on a human for tens of thousands of years; we have clothes nowadays. And being into heavy metal does not mean that you have suddenly become ffrench and lost the will to wash! And why is the fat bastard always bald? Someone explain that to me?!
It’s never easy taking pictures at a Maiden gig. It’s not just the fact that the building is packed to the rafters, I can cope with that. Hell, I’ve been going to gigs for long enough and if it hasn’t killed me by now, I figure I’m good for a few more years yet. It’s not even the fact that everyone, seemingly, always has there arms aloft, devil horns pointing towards the stage, obscuring my view. It isn’t even the jumping up and down, throwing beer all over anyone within ten yards. (Why do people do that? I mean, it’s not cheap to buy a pint, even that disgusting urinal drainage they serve down South. So, why waste it? Obviously, metal fans have loads of money.) No, it’s the sweaty, hairy-backed, homunculus mongoloid, rock-ape hump that always seems to be standing in front of me at Maiden gigs. As immovable as the Rock of Gibraltar, and as dumb as a box of rocks, this Neander valley native and his hoard of furry-assed, inbred, cretinous cousins is always blocking out my light and invading my personal space whenever I venture forth to see this bloody band. And why do they always have to take their t-shirts off? And have they never heard of anti-perspirant? Come on, a back, sack and crack wax is obviously well overdue, and there has been no call for a pelt on a human for tens of thousands of years; we have clothes nowadays. And being into heavy metal does not mean that you have suddenly become ffrench and lost the will to wash! And why is the fat bastard always bald? Someone explain that to me?!
OK. Hypertrichophobic rant aside. Time to get serious.
Tonight’s performance was in aid of the Clive Burr MS Trust Fund and, as per previous gigs, these are always special occasions. It is a credit to the band members that they support such a worthwhile cause and retain links with Clive. Anything that can be done to further research into this horribly cruel and indiscriminate disease is OK by me.
What can I say about the gig that I have not said a million times before? Pretty much nothing. Just look at the setlist. What more could you ask for? There were eighteen songs. Start at ‘A’ and work through the alphabet. Select one adjective per letter, per song. There’s your gig review, right there. With twenty-six letters in the alphabet, assuming you can’t think of a word for J, Q, X, Y and Z, even my hirsute, man-mountain, gorilla-chum knows twenty-one words. At least, I think he does. Obviously, he doesn’t know ‘razor’, ‘shave’, clean, soap, groom...
Hey, I’ll even start you off:
A – Awesome
B – Brilliant
C – Colossal
Tonight’s performance was in aid of the Clive Burr MS Trust Fund and, as per previous gigs, these are always special occasions. It is a credit to the band members that they support such a worthwhile cause and retain links with Clive. Anything that can be done to further research into this horribly cruel and indiscriminate disease is OK by me.
What can I say about the gig that I have not said a million times before? Pretty much nothing. Just look at the setlist. What more could you ask for? There were eighteen songs. Start at ‘A’ and work through the alphabet. Select one adjective per letter, per song. There’s your gig review, right there. With twenty-six letters in the alphabet, assuming you can’t think of a word for J, Q, X, Y and Z, even my hirsute, man-mountain, gorilla-chum knows twenty-one words. At least, I think he does. Obviously, he doesn’t know ‘razor’, ‘shave’, clean, soap, groom...
Hey, I’ll even start you off:
A – Awesome
B – Brilliant
C – Colossal
Come on, Mighty Joe Young, that’s only fifteen more adjectives you need.
Oh, yeah, he probably doesn’t know adjective...
The Maiden are the best in the business and this show was no different. No, that’s not exactly true. One of my complaints of late has been the lack of spontaneity in their live show. At these benefit gigs, they do actually lift it up a notch. Whilst this was certainly a flawless performance which sent everyone home happy, contented and feeling that they had got what they paid for and supported a good cause into the bargain; there was emotion on display too. This was personal and it showed.
Respect.
If you didn’t get to the gig, (or even if you did) why not make a donation now? Full details of how to make your donation are available on the Iron Maiden websitewww.ironmaiden.com It doesn’t have to be a huge sum, but every little helps.
Oh, yeah, he probably doesn’t know adjective...
The Maiden are the best in the business and this show was no different. No, that’s not exactly true. One of my complaints of late has been the lack of spontaneity in their live show. At these benefit gigs, they do actually lift it up a notch. Whilst this was certainly a flawless performance which sent everyone home happy, contented and feeling that they had got what they paid for and supported a good cause into the bargain; there was emotion on display too. This was personal and it showed.
Respect.
If you didn’t get to the gig, (or even if you did) why not make a donation now? Full details of how to make your donation are available on the Iron Maiden websitewww.ironmaiden.com It doesn’t have to be a huge sum, but every little helps.
What? You want to know what the fifth thing was? I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you.
5) Alice Cooper was the only gig I’d ever been to at the Hammersmith Odeon: 14th February 1982, Special Forces tour.
See, now you gotta die. Sorry, but it’s the law.
Do I hear your phone ringing?
Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder
5th September 2005
5) Alice Cooper was the only gig I’d ever been to at the Hammersmith Odeon: 14th February 1982, Special Forces tour.
See, now you gotta die. Sorry, but it’s the law.
Do I hear your phone ringing?
Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder
5th September 2005
About the photos...
Mostly, these are pretty shite. Mostly.
There's a couple of good ones but, I don't think I'm particularly proud of any of them. They do the job and record the event, but I've taken better.
Even I can't be on top form at every gig.
There's a couple of good ones but, I don't think I'm particularly proud of any of them. They do the job and record the event, but I've taken better.
Even I can't be on top form at every gig.
