Iron Maiden, Megadeth
Spark Arena, Auckland
Saturday, November 7th
It’s a night of icons and iconography, the great heavy metal theatre of Megadeth and Iron Maiden witnessed by devoted Kiwi fans at Spark Arena on Saturday night.
It could be billed as a double-header, and for many it is, with every ticket scanned and every seat filled before Megadeth open the ‘Run For Your Lives Tour’ in New Zealand and Australia with the first of a thousand heavy riffs. The band stand in front of a wall of Marshall amps, and a thick layer of smoke hangs around their feet. It looks and feels like the ’80s. Megadeth sound red-hot, with drummer Dirk Verbeuren and guitarist Teemu Mäntysaari working hard to earn their place next to the legend of the genre, Dave Mustaine.
While his voice has, of course, changed over the years, Mustaine’s playing is still remarkable, his songs are still indestructible, and his presence is divine to a huge portion of the room. The crowd responds not just with excitement, but with gratitude.
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Megadeth blast through classics “Tornado of Souls” and “Take No Prisoners,” which brings out Vic Rattlehead, the band’s suit-wearing mascot, who marches around with a briefcase, flinging cash around and turning the stage into the site of a heist gone wrong. “Symphony of Destruction” is a sure set highlight, with James LoMenzo and his bass tech having their moment in the sun with a tone so cutting, and so, so heavy.
Despite being, in theory, an opening act, Megadeth sneak in an encore, and “Holy Wars” closes a career-spanning set, the band bowing to a brimming Spark Arena as the sun is still setting outside.
The lights go down, and on a screen above a set of platforms and stairs, an animated short film plays, featuring many of the names, faces and places that Iron Maiden fans know and go giddy about. The frame stops on an image of Eddie, the band’s beloved skeletal mascot, and the haunting guitars of “Murder in the Rue Morgue” let the room of 12,000 know that the band are waiting in the wings, seconds from running out on stage.
Iron Maiden are fantastically loud, and full of energy. Guitarist Janick Gers swings his Stratocaster around like it’s weightless, while original member Dave Murray stands coolly, looking not at his fingers but at the mosh pit below as he plays every riff perfectly. Two more songs from their beloved second album Killers follow, “Wrathchild” and the title track, before the show leans further into the kinds of theatrics the band have become celebrated for with, suitably, “Phantom of the Opera.”
It’s around then that a giant, axe-wielding Eddie wanders onto the stage, chopping at the busy guitar players, who still have a lot of soloing to do. It’s a moment that reminds me of the kind of fun often lost in modern takes on heavy metal, and I look around to see kids and adults alike pointing and laughing at the silliness onstage.
Bruce Dickinson takes a moment to speak candidly about dreams, and about the band’s song “Infinite Dreams,” which hadn’t been included in an Iron Maiden set for 35 years, “until our show the other night,” he confesses. It’s a welcome and clever addition to the show: a masterclass in dynamic shifts and tempo changes, played with the kind of fluidity that only comes from not playing to a click track.
Hits like “The Number of the Beast” and “Run to the Hills” are enormous crowd-pleasers, with the latter drawing the loudest audience sing-along of the night. Phones are out to capture the moment, which usually frustrates bands and concertgoers alike, but I can’t be mad at the kid in front of me who video-calls his friend or brother, who looks to be far, far away.
“Seventh Son of a Seventh Son” puts Iron Maiden’s patience and technical brilliance on display, with a second act reminiscent of Pink Floyd’s “On the Run,” as drummer Simon Dawson holds a fast and steady hi-hat pattern for original bassist Steve Harris to pick away at. The moment holds the room’s attention not through volume, power or theatrics, but through something harder to explain, like tension.
Of course the audience begs for more, and the encore arrives with the long-awaited “Fear of the Dark” and “Wasted Years.” Dickinson, somehow still running on a full tank of gas, races around and throws his arms in the air again for a grateful and elated crowd.
Iron Maiden’s stamina is remarkable, and while it would be easy, and perhaps expected, to mention age somewhere in this review, I’ve realised it’s not worth talking about, because they set the standard for any band, of any age.
Indoor fireworks, cages, costume changes and detailed visuals enhance a show that, at its centre, is about a freakishly good band and their devoted fans.
