This was a meeting of marriage, Maiden and Mariner:
Is it just a coincidence that at a time I was finally, and a bit obsessively as far as time, getting into streaming the cautionary-tale-tune told in a wedding setting in Iron Maiden’s anthem Rime of the Ancient Mariner, that the latest woman became by marriage a princess in England’s royalty.
If you think wedding days can go very badly, check out the horrific plight of the mariner after he is cursed to ride the seas forever when killing an albatross. (Maybe this type of thing is why they are now extinct). The 13-minute song starts with him as a wedding guest and offering to regale his tale to the bride, then taking ten-minutes-or-so to go through it, the redemption of which leaves all at the wedding sadder but wiser. The song is vintage Maiden, taking a lengthy classic poem from about 300 years ago and rewriting it in shorter form.
This at a time when there are all things Maiden going on locally. To wit:
— A semi-trailer truck has been periodically parked and taking up four spaces in front of the Wells Fargo Bank, and the side of it gives a pitch for a Twin Cities restoration company along with art that suggest the huge stage backdrop of many a Maiden concert, conceived from the tombs of ancient civilizations such as those of the Egyptians and very recently, the Mayans.
— In a video for the Mariner number, there was rare footage of the drum kit taken from the arena ceiling, and even showing the foot pedals being played simultaneously. I’ve always thought one way to gauge the aptitude of a drummer is the size of his drum kit, and this one was just as large as the living rooms of their just-turning adult fans.
— I have first noticed that the longest tenured guitarist for the band, if you make him a bit younger and thinner, might as well be local rock guitarist Bob Schillinger. And another resemblance starts with the hero-villain in one of the videos for Hallowed be Thy Name by Maiden; there is an occasional patron at Dick’s who has much the same look, right down to the furrowed bridge of his nose. Dick’s, of course, is the venue where Bob and the boys for years hosted their open mic night. And then there was the guy from the other night who looks just like the Maiden drummer, (also slightly balding, like the guitarist).
— Also in Dick’s, this time tucked away in the back of the dining area, is an actual Iron Maiden, which is an interesting choice since you would think it might take away your appetite. This one has a poor, tortured soul, (from their latest CD Book of Souls?), trapped inside, and you know its from centuries ago because the guy is only five feet tall, a typical height in those days where you didn’t have to worry just about evil overlords, also the bad nutrition and lack of food that stunted your growth and took away inches of your height.
— But this is now, and one-man-bander Jeff Loven was just wearing one of his favorite Maiden T-shirts, promoting the 1981 album Killers. And how many royal weddings have there been since that time?
Will she be Bridezilla? Possibly. But for luck even worse than a wedding gone amok, go ask Iron Maiden, and their hero/villain the Ancient Mariner, about that bitchy albatross
Share the Post:
Related Posts
- And musings moreover —– To skate or not to skate? Not on most Hudson streets and sidewalks, you don’t. Even though most users I’ve encountered have been courteous and safe — saying ‘on right’ as they go by on a fairly busy sidewalk, and not just barely edging past you — the city council in essance banned the usage last fall. I think this goes too far in what amounts to dare I say it, big brother-type stringency. I prefer a more ‘urban’ style ambiance, with a Twin Cities type of bustle.
Spring has past sprung, we’ve finally had some hotter weather, and a young man’s heart turns to thoughts of … e-cycling and skateboarding. In the last couple of weeks, you can see them again all around our sidewalks and byways, busy and not so busy city streets, burgeoning-in-length bike paths, and parking lots of all sizes. While I don’t necessarily want to go as far as skater boyz … Despite the fact that the city of Hudson, being the city of Hudson and all that entails, many months ago municipally moved to limit or outright outlaw on many or most...
- And musings moreover —– Shoes and shirt are welcome, to be purchased along with other keepsakes at a new shop or worn in. At least soon while dining at new downtown Hudson eating opps. You don’t need an app, read on, as doors are flipped open … There are still other options and opportunities, after the Wild opted out as flipping goalies, with Filip, only worked for so long. (Not so big shoes to fill. Just flip-flops. See below and under The Headliner for posts on such sports bar shenanigans.) So for now, in a new post, we Rally In The Valley, with eight bands.
A door on the side of a downtown conglomerate of stores, the front not back door, has a sign telling delivery drivers to deposit items in back — but the sign is flipped upside down since the tape slipped. A blipped language I don’t speak. But that’s not the only thing that’s flipped in the downtown. Lots of stores are either open as we speak, or will be soon. We’re talking still in May, maybe, and mostly earlier than later. While we wait with baited breath for the full opening of Max’s Social House. And a pub or another hub...
- And Musings moreover —– Nothing says Mother’s Day Beauty like a concrete culvert on the edge of your small yard, blocking the view of the flowers, as they start to bloom. To serve you better by (finally) getting at that drainage problem, and giving you instead, from your fave rocker, a whole buncha gray to look at, not RWB. But you can’t fight either city hall, or a utility company, or both. Basically buckthorn, either.
An elderly mom got an early Mother’s Day gift, courtesy of three entities who gave: Her a condo made-a stone-a, AT&T and a muddy spring. All combined to take her request for a properly drained stretch of slight ponding, a size of a grown corn stalk and about 30 feet long, between her walkout patio and the edge of the condo association land, where she has planted a few small sets of flowers at which to gaze as she passes away the last of her days, which one hopes are still many and not spent in a daze. The whole...
- The Aves and the have nots. The fans cried foul, over too many goals and too few penalties. Putting a man in that box, so he could not fill the net, would help the Wild aplenty. (However wait, the Wild have now flipped it in game three by making a statement. But now their backs are up against the wall.) But spring temps hopefully will hold, and Saturday’s game three and its outdoor watch party held at home will hasten how soon we forget the Colorado debacle, and make it more like Dallas. Recently it’s been viewing from inside the sports bar the away games and in-arena ice of Colorado, amidst our own tundra and its just frozen flowers. Must suck also to be a retail manager and having to decide how many potted ones to put out.
The Wild in their series with The Aves, have generated more cuss words then goals — although there have been quite a few of those too — from those fans watching in Hudson sports bars. Nine and Five scored by the foes make Fourteen, and hey that could be a song title, although a little long — like all the remote slapshots the Wild has been accused of taking. Maybe less of a bust for beer sales. Shit, my team is falling behind further, so yes, I’ll take another. The nets are burning from pucks ripping through, just like your...
- Earth Day? Spring warming up, or more cold? To change it up, spring training delivers a fastball? Or chill out, go officially fishing, although you might strike out? Or chill on the links with our Lynx, the most vital local pro sports team, as they advance to that dreaded Dallas, now land of the Stars and not that north kind. Our mom rules. Does she profit from cards, and go fish, though not poker face? For a few days, the sequence of events, one following another, then soon following another, dominates out calendar’s agendas. And my rambling writing, (which includes siding with Cinco.)
Earth Day came and evening went, the first trial. Our earth is still spinning. Spring also has unsprung, the second day. Flowers but also buckthorn grow. Renewal commences. May Day has passed into the past, the third trial. But regimes still falter and fall. And we harken to it, despite the prospect of potentially going fishless, on this differs-by-state opener. It was cold, to boot. Do trout like such water? They did on one side of the boat in Jesus’ time. — This is not the walleye they are known for, but otherwise the pick of the litter, for Cinco...
- Iron Trump? Bring the frump? Or dump? Bump it up and do The Humpty Hump? Here is yet another song of a generation, yet another parody of Iron Man by Black Sabbath, (it might help to go through the original lyrics first), and it is Ozzy approved as he is one of our children of the grave, and as so is one of the allegedly foggy ones, (no I would not allege that!!)
This is my ode to a couple of old Geezers, as in Butler who wrote words like no other, and like the Foggy Geezer beer often on special, over at Casanova Historic Liquors in Hudson. In the style of Iron Man, by Black Sabbath Iron Trump Lyrics by Joe Winter Riffs by Tony He Owes Me? I am rustic man … I have a rusty plan … Has mad mind lost its way Dull forked tongue or things to say Bomb, make Iran pay Before leaving office or he’ll stay Mine is the Master Plan So mine the straits fast...