ONE HECK OF AN ENCOUNTER WITH IRON MEIDEN
Although the PMRC weaves dark and devious tales of heavy metal music and its creators—which are swallowed whole by the yuppie brigade en masse across the nation—Iron Maiden’s Bruce Dickinson recently proved to us that headbanging musicians can be unpretentious, intellectual, and charismatic.
ONE HECK OF AN ENCOUNTER WITH IRON MEIDEN
by Liz Derringer & Sydelle Schofield
Although the PMRC weaves dark and devious tales of heavy metal music and its creators—which are swallowed whole by the yuppie brigade en masse across the nation—Iron Maiden’s Bruce Dickinson recently proved to us that headbanging musicians can be unpretentious, intellectual, and charismatic.
We knocked on the hotel room door. It was wrenched wide open by 5’7” Bruce, who was clad in tight red gym shorts and a cut-off sweatshirt. His long brown hair shone reddish blonde highlights from the dim glow of the lamp in the corner. After the formalities of the introductions, we made ourselves comfortable on the couch to begin an hour’s worth of colorful conversation.
Immediately, we noticed a canvas case shaped in the position of a strange instrument resting against the wall. Could this guy be moonlighting as a tuba player in some geriatric society club jazz band? (It turned out to be his fencing equipment; he never leaves home without it.)
"I was going to pursue a career in the army."