The evening kicked off with The Raven Age (6), technically tight and ambitious, the guitars and timing were spot-on. Yet, they seemed slightly daunted by the scale of 75,000 Maiden (despite featuring a Maiden offspring) fans who were filling up the venue. Between songs they paused to chat, perhaps attempting connection, but it felt more like overcorrection: less showcasing talent, more proving they belonged. Still, the crowd responded with enthusiasm to every note and foraying solo.
Next up: Halestorm (7). These are seasoned performers, clearly loved by the audience, and many guitar changes seem to fit their fanbase’s interest. They rallied the crowd effortlessly, even though hard rock isn’t usually my thing. Props to Lzzy Hale who led their set confidently, earning their moment under the spotlight.
Steve Harris’ beloved home ground, West Ham’s London Stadium was packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Flags and tees spanning seven to seventy had gathered not just for a gig, but for a celebration of 50 years of Iron Maiden (9). That felt palpable before the first chord.
Following the taped intro of Doctor Doctor into The Ides Of March, the band launched straight into Murders In The Rue Morgue, a live rarity which I was told was last played twenty years ago. That opening was a statement: familiar, fierce, and ferociously eager. And the band were stalked on stage by a ten foot Eddie who was met by a massive roar from the crowd. From there, they ripped into Wrathchild, Killers, and Phantom Of The Opera with laser-sharp execution. The crowd was roaring from the first chord and the spectacle had only begun.
The fifth song in, The Number Of The Beast still hit like an encore moment by was dropped mid-set. The hushed synchronised recitation of its intro by 75,000 voices felt, frankly, electric. Bruce’s delivery was as controlled and commanding as I’ve heard, older but unmistakably powerful.
The middle stretch The Clairvoyant, Powerslave, 2 Minutes To Midnight, Rime Of The Ancient Mariner hit like a pressure wave. Each track has its own emotional gravity and carried the full weight of the homecoming narrative: almost every track here is a fan favourite for a reason. Bruce, Adrian, Dave, Janick, and Steve played with razor focus, and Simon Dawson (filling in for retired Nicko McBrain) was both precise and propulsive.
The encore Aces High, Fear Of The Dark, Wasted Years closed the night with familiar anthems. Cover-to-cover, the band didn’t look like artists going through the motions. That energy and engagement reaffirmed why Maiden remain one of the best stadium acts.
From my vantage point, the sound was the best I’ve ever heard at one of their stadium shows. Stadium acoustics can be weird with delays, muddy mixes but here the mix was punchy and well balanced: Bruce cut through clearly, guitar layers were defined, and the rhythm section had palpable presence.
There was a moment that stood out. Not a song specifically, but a crowd-wide compliance with Maiden’s no-phone policy. The band asked for minimal screens so everyone could be there. I took one picture and that was it. East London were lit by genuine presence, not phone screens.
This wasn’t just a concert. That roofless stadium, packed with 75,000 of your closest metal-head mates, chanting in unison, bouncing to every beat. It felt communal. Festivals are shared moments; gigs are experiences. But there’s something truly something about a giant stadium packed for one band’s homecoming at the 50-year mark. You could feel the history, the pride, the connection.
Iron Maiden at London Stadium was a triumph on every level: setlist, execution, and setting. It was a band at their peak performing to a city that helped birth them. The show hit all the marks: deep cuts, anthems, old-school rarities, and timeless choruses. The pace never slackened, the performances were tight, and the sound was stellar.
Festivals are energy. Local gigs are intimacy. But this, this was legacy.
Shared by tens of thousands, rooted in home soil, and delivered by a band that’s still defining what it means to be alive in heavy metal.
A perfect night in East London. Well if you ignored stadium beer prices and the cost of 50th anniversary merch but you can't have everything.
Next up: Halestorm (7). These are seasoned performers, clearly loved by the audience, and many guitar changes seem to fit their fanbase’s interest. They rallied the crowd effortlessly, even though hard rock isn’t usually my thing. Props to Lzzy Hale who led their set confidently, earning their moment under the spotlight.
Steve Harris’ beloved home ground, West Ham’s London Stadium was packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Flags and tees spanning seven to seventy had gathered not just for a gig, but for a celebration of 50 years of Iron Maiden (9). That felt palpable before the first chord.
Following the taped intro of Doctor Doctor into The Ides Of March, the band launched straight into Murders In The Rue Morgue, a live rarity which I was told was last played twenty years ago. That opening was a statement: familiar, fierce, and ferociously eager. And the band were stalked on stage by a ten foot Eddie who was met by a massive roar from the crowd. From there, they ripped into Wrathchild, Killers, and Phantom Of The Opera with laser-sharp execution. The crowd was roaring from the first chord and the spectacle had only begun.
The fifth song in, The Number Of The Beast still hit like an encore moment by was dropped mid-set. The hushed synchronised recitation of its intro by 75,000 voices felt, frankly, electric. Bruce’s delivery was as controlled and commanding as I’ve heard, older but unmistakably powerful.
The middle stretch The Clairvoyant, Powerslave, 2 Minutes To Midnight, Rime Of The Ancient Mariner hit like a pressure wave. Each track has its own emotional gravity and carried the full weight of the homecoming narrative: almost every track here is a fan favourite for a reason. Bruce, Adrian, Dave, Janick, and Steve played with razor focus, and Simon Dawson (filling in for retired Nicko McBrain) was both precise and propulsive.
The encore Aces High, Fear Of The Dark, Wasted Years closed the night with familiar anthems. Cover-to-cover, the band didn’t look like artists going through the motions. That energy and engagement reaffirmed why Maiden remain one of the best stadium acts.
From my vantage point, the sound was the best I’ve ever heard at one of their stadium shows. Stadium acoustics can be weird with delays, muddy mixes but here the mix was punchy and well balanced: Bruce cut through clearly, guitar layers were defined, and the rhythm section had palpable presence.
There was a moment that stood out. Not a song specifically, but a crowd-wide compliance with Maiden’s no-phone policy. The band asked for minimal screens so everyone could be there. I took one picture and that was it. East London were lit by genuine presence, not phone screens.
This wasn’t just a concert. That roofless stadium, packed with 75,000 of your closest metal-head mates, chanting in unison, bouncing to every beat. It felt communal. Festivals are shared moments; gigs are experiences. But there’s something truly something about a giant stadium packed for one band’s homecoming at the 50-year mark. You could feel the history, the pride, the connection.
Iron Maiden at London Stadium was a triumph on every level: setlist, execution, and setting. It was a band at their peak performing to a city that helped birth them. The show hit all the marks: deep cuts, anthems, old-school rarities, and timeless choruses. The pace never slackened, the performances were tight, and the sound was stellar.
Festivals are energy. Local gigs are intimacy. But this, this was legacy.
Shared by tens of thousands, rooted in home soil, and delivered by a band that’s still defining what it means to be alive in heavy metal.
A perfect night in East London. Well if you ignored stadium beer prices and the cost of 50th anniversary merch but you can't have everything.
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