IRON MAIDEN/ QUEENSRYCHE/ HALFORD

8.5.00
Madison Square Garden
New York, NY

ROB HALFORD'S vengeful shriek beckons as we haul ass to our near-nosebleed perch to witness the King of Metal in his hell bent glory. The guitars rip through our senses as HALFORD's powerful scream pierces eardrums around the arena. The disorienting sights and sounds parading before my eyes take me back in time as I enter the 'Garden-turned-heavy metal thunderdome. It's heartwarming to experience real "heavy metal" in this day and age. The great bands of metal's heyday in the '80s mostly went the way of the dinosaur. It's hard to find decent metal bands these days, as HALFORD himself informed me in our recent interview. Can you disagree?

Mullets flap at the wafting clouds of pot smoke to HALFORD's new songs, such as "Cyberworld" and "The One You Love To Hate" from the forthcoming Resurrection. Our intoxicated neighbor tosses slurred commentary in our general direction while our fellow soldiers rock on. His conversation with my friend Eric goes something like this:

"Fuckin' Rob Halmer...Priesht, man...dude, how you know all the words?"

"Those albums came out like, twenty years ago… " Eric replies with a shrug.

Various types of smoke and beer fly our way as the excited metal fans behind us throw the sign of the beast and shout it out loud. My feet stick to the floor as joints are passed around. Everything is perfect. But it appears that not everyone feels the same way. Our verbally challenged neighbor disappears before the end of HALFORD's set.

The cheers grow louder and everyone knows all the words to all the songs, even though Resurrection won't hit the shelves for another few days. What more could anyone ask of their fans? HALFORD ends with a string of vintage PRIEST, ripping through "Electric Eye" and "Riding On The Wind" from 1982's Screaming For Vengeance and the classic "Breakin' the Law," with the same over the top intensity as back in the day. Back in top form, HALFORD hasn't forgotten how to give his fans what they need.

The last notes of HALFORD dissipate into the night like a fading sting to the ears as the lights pop up, signaling that it's time to mingle with the mullets. The fans, mostly thirty-something headbangers, are as loyal as ever; tickets disappeared in under two hours for this show. Not everyone looks the part tonight, but this is Noo Fuckin' Yawk, a dark, cosmopolitan stretch of land far removed from the south or the Midwest where yesterday can still be found. So the closet metal heads represent. Piercings and tattoos are nothing new to this crowd, so there is very little evidence of the year 2000 to be found beneath the massive rafters of the 'Garden.

But let's get back to the real part of the show. After all, what would a rock concert be without the shut-ins who haven't left their homes since Halford left PRIEST and Dickenson left MAIDEN ten years ago? Impressively styled mullets, worn leather, concert t-shirts adorned with tour dates and spandex jeans are in full effect. But, sitting in midtown Manhattan, the 'Garden is missing one vital element of the concert experience: THE PARKING LOT; where fans unite in the rebellious spirit of breakin' the law, as evidenced in the 1986 rockumentary "Heavy Metal Parking Lot." Alas, the joys of puking in the back of your friend's pickup truck were not to be had tonight.

Time for QUEENSRYCHE. I missed out on these guys back in the '80s and tonight won't be much different. I manage to catch pieces of their set throughout my intoxicated daze in between bathroom and beer breaks. But the band seems to pull it off well, and for that I respect them. Clad in black, the 'RYCHE tastefully skip over their hit "Silent Lucidity" and deliver a high-energy rock performance to a slightly subdued yet attentive crowd. At least it sounded that way from the men's room.

Moments before IRON MAIDEN explode on stage, our mysterious neighbor reappears in his seat, this time in a coma-like state. The lights flare up and the crowd roars as the heroes fly out onto the stage like a second coming, or, more appropriately, the Six Horsemen. Singer Bruce Dickenson dashes around like spandex and denim-clad Peter Pan, breaking at the edge each time to gesture and stare dramatically at his fans as they scream and howl with delight. With an endless supply of energy, Dickenson works the crowd that seems to have forgiven him for parting ways with IRON MAIDEN back in '91.

MAIDEN daringly begin their set with three songs from their just-released Brave New World. Unlike other monsters of rock, the reunited MAIDEN's new material stands up to the old, easily mixing in with the classics. "Wickerman," "Flight of the Navigator" and "Brave New World" sound brilliant, convincing us that no one else could ever touch what this band does. Trademark galloping rhythms and a triple ax attack ensure nothing less than a full-on display of metal power from this fantasy-driven sextet.

With the exception of three lengthy snoozers from their Bruce-less '90s albums, the band delivers polished gems from throughout their career. Halfway into the set, "The Evil That Men Do" brings out metal's most famous mascot, Ed Hunter. You'd think that Eddie would add some excitement and spectacle to the show, but the toned down, gargantuan figure merely brings a sheepish campiness to the stage as it lamely flops it arms around the band members' heads. Eddie is so lame that Dickenson and guitarist Janick Gers have to actually go out of their way to help the towering stage prop act out forced mini-battles.

In spite of the ineffectual Eddie and the lesser-known songs, MAIDEN delivers the goods with "Two Minutes To Midnight," "Iron Maiden" and "The Trooper." The fans scream out every single syllable as Gers busts out classic metal moves, such as swinging his guitar around and slipping down on one knee to pose as he riffs away. Dickenson, in top shape, makes his way around the stage by grabbing onto hooks and zipping down cables. The fleet-footed front man defies gravity as he leaps about the stage effortlessly with mic in hand, keeping the crowd going. Always the showman, Dickenson offers us his bizarre perspective regarding beer. "Beware of drinking water," he warns, "fish fuck in it!" Heavy metal fans need no encouragement when it comes to alcohol consumption, but the humor adds some color to Dickenson's unstoppable stage presence.

Our comatose neighbor is long gone by the encore. He foolishly misses out on "Number of the Beast," "Hallowed Be Thy Name" and "Sanctuary." After the last note, famed rock photographer Ross Halfin photographs the band, shoulder to shoulder, with thousands of fans cheering behind them.

After the show I eavesdrop on various MAIDEN fans' disappointments in the band's song selection, which did not include the anthems "Run to the hills" and "Running Free." "Those faggots ripped us off!!" slurs a trio of burnouts.

If I learned anything from tonight, it's that you can't please everyone all the time. If you can still pack arenas after twenty years, it doesn't even matter. So fuck 'em.

This article originally appeared on Gigmania.com