Reflecting upon points somewhere in time with a friend named Ed.
Dan Rowe 10/6/03
(Page 2 of 2)
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Fortunately, a year or so after that incident, we were back in Arkansas. Things were tight and far from perfect, at first, but it was a cakewalk in comparison to the living hell we'd just gotten out of. There was a period of being mad as hell about those four lost years up north but it would subside and real living would eventually recommence.
In those years immediately after getting home, I grew a lot in every way imaginable. I started to write songs of my own and have serious girlfriends. When I turned sixteen, I met a girl over the summer. She was learning to play guitar and loved music, too. She was the most beautiful person I had ever met, in every way a person can be beautiful. It was kind of rough because she lived about three hours away but the way I felt when I was with her, it really didn't matter to me.
Thankfully, I had a car. So, on the weekends, I would wake up at 4:30 in the morning to drive down and spend all day with her before driving back home around dinner time. We would talk about and listen to music, kiss, and hold eachother all day. My heart soared.
All the way down and all the way back, I would listen to Iron Maiden's No Prayer For The Dying album, every time. Granted, songs about corrupt televagelists and submarine crews don't sound like the best soundtrack for burgeoning love (there's a "Bring Your Daughter To The Slaughter" joke, here--I shall refrain) but that's exactly what it was for me. "Hooks In You" did however make sense in the midst of it all because this beautiful creature had her hooks in me to the point I was actually able to see through the rush of teenage hormones a bit and get a glimpse of what genuine love is all about. The music on No Prayer would only serve to heighten this sensory overload--there were moments I would've sworn I was flying, or at least floating, on those rides to see her and back.
As they had seen me through my deepest lows, Maiden's songs were now enhancing my greatest highs--I was grateful, as ever.
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So, as the weeks of wait to see Iron Maiden live metled down to days, all these points in time (as well as countless others) with their music were extremely vivid in my mind.
I met up with my travelmates after a show in Little Rock, caravaned back down to their place, and caught a few hours sleep before our early morning departure to Texas. At least, I tried to sleep. For those four anxious hours, I tossed and turned, never really coming close to rest.
Over the course of our eight hour trip to Houston, it hit me how far things had come from my very first experience with Iron Maiden--this scenario was about as far from despair as you could get. Not only was I finally getting to see an Iron Maiden concert, in the flesh, but doing so with the friends I had dreamed of having my whole life. This fact was undeniable--all three of us had only logged about four hours sleep total over the previous two days, yet we were able to laugh those eight hours down till they felt like about one and a half. That good spiritedness sustained the entire trip, making it the best time I've ever had in my life (thank you, my brothers--DR).
When the lights finally went down and Iron Maiden took the stage, my heart couldn't hold the joy any longer and tears flowed. It wouldn't be the last time during their set that would happen, either. Three times that night, I nearly blacked out from screaming so hard for the band. It was such a privilege to be part of that audience, able to give back in small part some of the energy Iron Maiden had provided me thoughout the years.
Iron Maiden's performance that night was flawless and the whole experience is something I will cherish for eternity.
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Needless to say, this whole turn of events has affected me more than anything else in a great while. I was puzzled as to why for a bit but, upon reflection, the reason is clear: Memories of times both bad and good may fade to a dull but, when those galloping rhythms hit, the wide-eyed thrill over this music's power is still razor sharp in me. Perhaps that this is what ultimately remains is the thing which makes Iron Maiden one of the greatest of the greats.
Sitting listening to their new album, Dance Of Death, and realizing that almost thirty years after the fact they've arguably made their masterwork with what must now be considered their "classic" lineup, my heart swells that the next generation of young people can know that same joy I discovered so long ago.
If you happen to be in despair at this very moment, let your mind be at ease--the cavalry is saddled up to make the save, once again.
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