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384 pages, Hardcover
First published October 19, 2017
The mariner kills the bird of good omenAnd so it's also not a surprise that he can render entertaining anecdotes, a number of them about the variations of madness of the band's early days:
His shipmates cry against what he's done
But when the fog clears, they justify him
And make themselves a part of the crime
The albatross begins with its vengeance
A terrible curse, a thirst has begun
His shipmates blame bad luck on the mariner
Around his neck, the dead bird is hung!
Sailing on and on and north across the sea...
Martin [our producer] had an alter ego. We called it Marvin. Over the years Marvin has provided us with hours of entertainment and near-death experiences...[this time] Marvin was out and proud...Or the kind of experience that we should probably all have, just once, at the end of a debauched and phantasmagoric rock tour:
'Sit down, boy', he said.
He flamboyantly hurled the producer's chair on its rollers so it bounced off the rear wall. He put his hands on my shoulders and shoved me into it. I started to feel just a tinge of apprehension.
He slammed the chair up against the mixing desk, wedging me in place, and played Killers till my ears bled.
'Whaddidyathink of that?', he challenged, just audible over the cochlear cataclysm that was my inner ear in shock.
'It's, er, very good', I said.
'Heh, heh. Yeah, yeah- very good.' And he just walked out muttering to himself, and left me alone in the studio with the tapes for the new Iron Maiden album.
After the last show we got very drunk. I was mixing hot sake with cold-beer chasers. Back at the hotel I was hungry. Room service had stopped for the night. I crawled on my hands and knees down a hotel corridor till I found a used room-service tray with two old bread rolls and a slab of butter. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror by the lift. There is a William Blake painting, Nebuchadnezzar...the king's face looks out in horror as he realizes what he is becoming: he is transforming slowly into a beast. That painting was my reflection.And yet the deeper I got into the book, the more superficial and disconnected many of the anecdotes began to feel. There are quite a lot of chapters about flying, which he is obviously passionate about but which I mostly found dull, while the chapters about Maiden, in particular about their music itself, seem strangely perfunctory. Nor did I ever feel that I got to know the band members as people. What about Steve Harris, bassist and primary songwriter, what's that dude like? We never really find out.
...I wrote the song 'Powerslave' as a partial allegory of life as a rock-star pharaoh, taking all the acolytes with him as he goes. In the end it's all just an empty tomb, so what was the point of it all? Bleak magnificence was the sentiment in my heart, and it was starting to become what I would feel at the end of the tour: 'A slave to the power of death...'Sure. Jam a little with the band, sit in front of a window on a rainy day, and you've got one of the most iconic songs in the history of heavy metal. Happens to me all the time. Then again, maybe his lack of neurotic reflection over his art is as good an answer to my question as any.
...The song started life as a little Egyptian-sounding riff on a guitar, and I always loved the image conjured up by the phrase 'slave amplifier.' A bit of daydreaming and staring out the window on a rainy day did the rest.