Iron Maiden: World's Funniest Band?
schadenfreude \SHOD-n-froy-duh\, noun:
A malicious satisfaction obtained from the misfortunes of others.
Have you ever experienced schadenfreude? If you've ever laughed when you've witnessed someone step in a pile of dog crap, you've had schadenfreude. You feel a little sorry for the person and maybe even know how they feel, but you can't contain the giggles. Empathy has an evil half-brother and he is Schadenfreude.
Schadenfreude comes from the German, Schaden, "damage" + Freude, "joy." It is often capitalized, as it is in German. Don't you think that Damagejoy would make a great name for a metal band? (Damagejoy copyright 2004 Fkntony Enterprises, Inc.)
The most powerful schadenfreude experience I remember was at the end of the Iron Maiden show on Sunday, Febuary 22, 1987 at the Selland Arena in Fresno, California. Sometimes, I recall this event and laugh out loud, which can beckon looks from strangers depending on where I am at the time. Once, the memory from that night slithered it's way into my head for some reason while I was in line at the bank. I tried to snuff out a laugh and made a strange nasal honking sound. The lady in front of me in line turned and said, "bless you", thinking I'd sneezed. I coughed out some sort of thanks and squeezed my eyes shut hoping to erase the image of what I'd seen that cold winter night years before.
Iron Maiden was touring in support of their 1986 album, Somewhere In Time, which didn't bowl me over upon it's release, but seeing as how we'd still get all the classic Maiden tunes like "The Number of the Beast" and the epic "Rime of the Ancient Mariner", the guys and I would be there for sure. "The guys" consisted of myself, Eric, Chet and Randy. The four of us saw many shows together dating back to high school and we still do as often as possible to this day.
This concert was, as most were back then, a general admission show. That meant that you had a ticket to get in. After that, you were on your own to find a seat or choose to stand on the arena floor. Me and the guys had gotten there early that night and found great seats waiting for us in the loge with a perfect view of the stage. Eric lead the way into the row with Chet in tow. Randy followed and I took the seat on the aisle. Randy's not what you would call tall, so he groaned when a huge Native American fellow sat in the seat directly in front of him. Leaning over to me, Randy said, "I hope Cochese here sits down all night". I agreed; this guy was about 6'3", 260lbs and looked like Soundgarden's Kim Thayil (although it would be about four years before I or anyone else outside of Seattle would know who Kim Thayil was). Here's an idea of what the guy in front of us looked like:
Soundgarden guitarist Kim Thayil
The show was great. Iron Maiden concerts had it all back then; egregious solos from every member of the band, lasers, smoke, and the appearance of Eddie. Eddie is the zombie/skeleton/mummy "mascot" of the band that adorns the cover of every album they've ever released.
At this show, as it was at the two previous Maiden shows I'd seen, some schmuck on the road crew had to wear the huge Eddie costume and stomp around the stage as the band played the encore. I imagine it was supposed to be pretty cool, but it probably had the single highest Spinal Tap factor this side of Dio fighting a robotic dragon back in '85.
The band, about two-thirds of their way into the "Running Free" encore, now had the audience whipped into a state close to chaos. Eddie was staggering about, the stage lights were flashing frenetically and Iron Maiden were steamrolling through towards the inevitable crescendo. Just about the whole crowd was on their feet, fists pumping and heads banging. Poor Randy had to shift over towards me as I scooted a little into the aisle so he could see the action below. Cochese, not really needing to because of his size, decided to stand up as well giving Randy an excellent view of nothing except the Rush tour dates from 1981 that adorned the back of the titan's shirt.
Cochese leaned a little to the left into our view for a moment and that caught our eye. Randy and I both looked at the huge man to see that he was fishing around in his pocket. Iron Maiden was now reaching full bore and power chords coupled with ear-splitting screams from lead singer Bruce Dickenson hammered away at us. We both now saw that Cochese had gotten something out of his pocket and was looking at it. Of course, we couldn't see over his shoulder, so Randy and I looked at each other and shrugged. I was just about to turn my attention back to the stage when the Indian cocked his arm back in a throwing motion. His hand came pretty near my face and I caught a glimpse of a fifty cent piece held between his thumb and forefinger. I know it was a half-dollar because I saw the familiar profile of JKF as it caught a bit of purple light from the stage.
Oh my God, this guy's gonna chuck that thing at the stage, I thought. Randy saw it too, just before Cochese lowered his arm, perhaps rethinking this stunt. I looked at Randy and exhaled. All I could think of was the urban legend of a penny thrown off of the Empire State Building leaving a crater on the street below. Iron Maiden steered towards the end of "Running Free", hammering away with the first few of a long procession of power chords and synchronized lighting effects, creating a dazzling cacophony.
All of a sudden, the giant's arm swung back again and this time he launched the coin towards the stage. But he held on to the coin too long on his follow through. Six rows below us, a young man's head was thrust forward and his right hand snapped to the back of his head. He bent over at the waist, balancing himself with his left hand on his left knee while his right hand gripped the base of his skull. I didn't actually see the coin hit this kid, but I swear to this day that I think I may have heard it, even over the din onstage. (For the record: I believe it sounded like the Marvel Comics-esque "THOK"). What compelled that gigantic Indian to turn that kid's head into The Devil's Wishing Well, I'll never know.
Randy and I both yelled in unison, "Ohhh!!", the way you do when you see a linebacker waylay a receiver going over the middle of the field. The huge Indian immediately realized that his trajectory was off a little and plopped down and sat stiffly with his hands folded neatly in his lap. He stared straight ahead and not in the direction of the stage at all. Sitting there among the crazed Iron Maiden fans screaming and jumping around, he looked like he was waiting his turn at a spelling bee. Meanwhile, the kid was now sitting on the edge of his seat, still bent over and holding his head. His friends were rocking out next to him with no idea of what had happened. At one point, the guy next to him looked around and realized the kid wasn't standing next to him. He spun completely around to see where his buddy had gone off to before almost tripping on the kid sitting in pain. I watched as the rest of his group down the row yell into each others ears, trying to find out what was wrong. Lots of shrugging. The victim waved his arms wildly and thumbed over his shoulder up in our general direction. The friend that had noticed him relayed the message down the row to the others and they all gazed up into the rows behind us with confused looks on their faces.
The final notes crashed down and Bruce Dickenson yelled out, "Thank you, goodnight!" The house lights came on and Randy and I were starting to giggle a little at Cochese's feat and his new demeanor. I thought it was hilarious that this huge man was avoiding eye contact with some 120lb. sophomore. But now with the house lights up, we realized that we were the only witnesses to the assault. No one else had seen a thing. People were shuffling towards the exits, talking and laughing. The kid was only now starting to turn and look to see where that incredible pain came from.
Randy and I froze where we stood. Chet and Eric, wanting to get going, wondered why we were standing like statues. "Show's over, man. Go", said Chet pointing to the aisle. Eric chimed in, "Yeah, git". I was staring at the kid as he did a slow turn from his seated position. Randy muttered "Oh shit", not moving his lips a bit. The kid looked right at us with a contorted expression that emitted both pain and utter confusion. His mouth was agape and his upper lip was curled back. "Ooop", came out of Randy's mouth as we both broke his gaze by looking down. But in doing so, we caught another gander at the Indian, still sitting quietly and looking straight ahead. Oh, no. Here come the giggles again.
Now we couldn't laugh here; the kid would think it was us that had thrown whatever it was he thought struck him in the skull. We weren't scared of him or his buddies, but also didn't want to get tossed out of Selland Arena or worse, have the cops talk to us. So we had to maintain a look of innocence and not laugh.
Stifling laughter is one of the hardest things to do in this life. Muscles do not cooperate, the brain conspires against you and when someone else is also trying not to laugh, it is almost impossible to succeed. I don't think people laugh enough as it is, so it's always a shame when it's suppressed.
"Go! What the hell are you idiots doing?!", yelled Chet. I could only respond with, "Mmumumph" as I pursed my lips. Hearing this got Randy started and he let out a low, "Unnnggh" and blew a little air out of his mouth. I dared another look at the kid and he was still looking up at us, but now had one eye closed so as to maybe focus a little better. I should have never looked back, because now I was literally choking on the laughter. Randy was a wreck, suffering from what now looked like a severe tremor. I had started to sweat and briefly looked downward to wipe my brow when I saw that Cochese was now bouncing slightly in his seat. His shoulders were hunching involuntarily as he, too, tried to stifle any laughter. I was about to lose it. Tears were welling up in my eyes and my upper lip was going into spasms. Trying to hold the air that was attempting to escape my throat, I made a nasally snorking sound that made Eric and Chet laugh, even though they were getting a little irritated not knowing what the hell was going on. The kid's friends tapped him on the shoulder and told him that they should just take off.
He stood slowly and let his right hand down from his head. He looked at it, checking for blood I suppose. Randy let out a little "nnnga" when he saw that and the Indian went into a faux coughing fit to cover his guffaws. Mercifully, the kid hit the stairs and left our sight.
"Bwaaaahahahaha!!!", we cried. Randy and I fell all over each other. His knees buckled and he had to grab my shoulder so as not to go over the front of the seat. I went backwards tumbling into my seat, curling up like a baby as I held my aching ribs. We howled with laughter for a straight minute with Chet and Eric smiling in wonderment the whole time. Cochese simply stood up with a smirk on his face, turned to us and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "That was close, huh?" He then walked down the stairs and disappeared into the crowd filing out of the arena. It took us until we got to the car before we could walk straight, breathe normally and tell the story to Chet and Eric.
I still listen to Iron Maiden CDs from time to time and I even saw them live in concert again in Bakersfield in 2000. But I almost always smile and sometimes laugh out loud when I think about that night. I also think it was ironic that the kid was bonked with a JFK fifty cent piece, because he could have starred in his own Zapruder film.
guilty conscience
guilt·y con·science (plural guilt·y con·sciences)
noun
secret feelings of guilt: a feeling of having done wrong, especially something that is hidden from others or denied
A malicious satisfaction obtained from the misfortunes of others.
Have you ever experienced schadenfreude? If you've ever laughed when you've witnessed someone step in a pile of dog crap, you've had schadenfreude. You feel a little sorry for the person and maybe even know how they feel, but you can't contain the giggles. Empathy has an evil half-brother and he is Schadenfreude.
Schadenfreude comes from the German, Schaden, "damage" + Freude, "joy." It is often capitalized, as it is in German. Don't you think that Damagejoy would make a great name for a metal band? (Damagejoy copyright 2004 Fkntony Enterprises, Inc.)
The most powerful schadenfreude experience I remember was at the end of the Iron Maiden show on Sunday, Febuary 22, 1987 at the Selland Arena in Fresno, California. Sometimes, I recall this event and laugh out loud, which can beckon looks from strangers depending on where I am at the time. Once, the memory from that night slithered it's way into my head for some reason while I was in line at the bank. I tried to snuff out a laugh and made a strange nasal honking sound. The lady in front of me in line turned and said, "bless you", thinking I'd sneezed. I coughed out some sort of thanks and squeezed my eyes shut hoping to erase the image of what I'd seen that cold winter night years before.
Iron Maiden was touring in support of their 1986 album, Somewhere In Time, which didn't bowl me over upon it's release, but seeing as how we'd still get all the classic Maiden tunes like "The Number of the Beast" and the epic "Rime of the Ancient Mariner", the guys and I would be there for sure. "The guys" consisted of myself, Eric, Chet and Randy. The four of us saw many shows together dating back to high school and we still do as often as possible to this day.
This concert was, as most were back then, a general admission show. That meant that you had a ticket to get in. After that, you were on your own to find a seat or choose to stand on the arena floor. Me and the guys had gotten there early that night and found great seats waiting for us in the loge with a perfect view of the stage. Eric lead the way into the row with Chet in tow. Randy followed and I took the seat on the aisle. Randy's not what you would call tall, so he groaned when a huge Native American fellow sat in the seat directly in front of him. Leaning over to me, Randy said, "I hope Cochese here sits down all night". I agreed; this guy was about 6'3", 260lbs and looked like Soundgarden's Kim Thayil (although it would be about four years before I or anyone else outside of Seattle would know who Kim Thayil was). Here's an idea of what the guy in front of us looked like:
Soundgarden guitarist Kim Thayil
The show was great. Iron Maiden concerts had it all back then; egregious solos from every member of the band, lasers, smoke, and the appearance of Eddie. Eddie is the zombie/skeleton/mummy "mascot" of the band that adorns the cover of every album they've ever released.
At this show, as it was at the two previous Maiden shows I'd seen, some schmuck on the road crew had to wear the huge Eddie costume and stomp around the stage as the band played the encore. I imagine it was supposed to be pretty cool, but it probably had the single highest Spinal Tap factor this side of Dio fighting a robotic dragon back in '85.
The band, about two-thirds of their way into the "Running Free" encore, now had the audience whipped into a state close to chaos. Eddie was staggering about, the stage lights were flashing frenetically and Iron Maiden were steamrolling through towards the inevitable crescendo. Just about the whole crowd was on their feet, fists pumping and heads banging. Poor Randy had to shift over towards me as I scooted a little into the aisle so he could see the action below. Cochese, not really needing to because of his size, decided to stand up as well giving Randy an excellent view of nothing except the Rush tour dates from 1981 that adorned the back of the titan's shirt.
Cochese leaned a little to the left into our view for a moment and that caught our eye. Randy and I both looked at the huge man to see that he was fishing around in his pocket. Iron Maiden was now reaching full bore and power chords coupled with ear-splitting screams from lead singer Bruce Dickenson hammered away at us. We both now saw that Cochese had gotten something out of his pocket and was looking at it. Of course, we couldn't see over his shoulder, so Randy and I looked at each other and shrugged. I was just about to turn my attention back to the stage when the Indian cocked his arm back in a throwing motion. His hand came pretty near my face and I caught a glimpse of a fifty cent piece held between his thumb and forefinger. I know it was a half-dollar because I saw the familiar profile of JKF as it caught a bit of purple light from the stage.
Oh my God, this guy's gonna chuck that thing at the stage, I thought. Randy saw it too, just before Cochese lowered his arm, perhaps rethinking this stunt. I looked at Randy and exhaled. All I could think of was the urban legend of a penny thrown off of the Empire State Building leaving a crater on the street below. Iron Maiden steered towards the end of "Running Free", hammering away with the first few of a long procession of power chords and synchronized lighting effects, creating a dazzling cacophony.
All of a sudden, the giant's arm swung back again and this time he launched the coin towards the stage. But he held on to the coin too long on his follow through. Six rows below us, a young man's head was thrust forward and his right hand snapped to the back of his head. He bent over at the waist, balancing himself with his left hand on his left knee while his right hand gripped the base of his skull. I didn't actually see the coin hit this kid, but I swear to this day that I think I may have heard it, even over the din onstage. (For the record: I believe it sounded like the Marvel Comics-esque "THOK"). What compelled that gigantic Indian to turn that kid's head into The Devil's Wishing Well, I'll never know.
Randy and I both yelled in unison, "Ohhh!!", the way you do when you see a linebacker waylay a receiver going over the middle of the field. The huge Indian immediately realized that his trajectory was off a little and plopped down and sat stiffly with his hands folded neatly in his lap. He stared straight ahead and not in the direction of the stage at all. Sitting there among the crazed Iron Maiden fans screaming and jumping around, he looked like he was waiting his turn at a spelling bee. Meanwhile, the kid was now sitting on the edge of his seat, still bent over and holding his head. His friends were rocking out next to him with no idea of what had happened. At one point, the guy next to him looked around and realized the kid wasn't standing next to him. He spun completely around to see where his buddy had gone off to before almost tripping on the kid sitting in pain. I watched as the rest of his group down the row yell into each others ears, trying to find out what was wrong. Lots of shrugging. The victim waved his arms wildly and thumbed over his shoulder up in our general direction. The friend that had noticed him relayed the message down the row to the others and they all gazed up into the rows behind us with confused looks on their faces.
The final notes crashed down and Bruce Dickenson yelled out, "Thank you, goodnight!" The house lights came on and Randy and I were starting to giggle a little at Cochese's feat and his new demeanor. I thought it was hilarious that this huge man was avoiding eye contact with some 120lb. sophomore. But now with the house lights up, we realized that we were the only witnesses to the assault. No one else had seen a thing. People were shuffling towards the exits, talking and laughing. The kid was only now starting to turn and look to see where that incredible pain came from.
Randy and I froze where we stood. Chet and Eric, wanting to get going, wondered why we were standing like statues. "Show's over, man. Go", said Chet pointing to the aisle. Eric chimed in, "Yeah, git". I was staring at the kid as he did a slow turn from his seated position. Randy muttered "Oh shit", not moving his lips a bit. The kid looked right at us with a contorted expression that emitted both pain and utter confusion. His mouth was agape and his upper lip was curled back. "Ooop", came out of Randy's mouth as we both broke his gaze by looking down. But in doing so, we caught another gander at the Indian, still sitting quietly and looking straight ahead. Oh, no. Here come the giggles again.
Now we couldn't laugh here; the kid would think it was us that had thrown whatever it was he thought struck him in the skull. We weren't scared of him or his buddies, but also didn't want to get tossed out of Selland Arena or worse, have the cops talk to us. So we had to maintain a look of innocence and not laugh.
Stifling laughter is one of the hardest things to do in this life. Muscles do not cooperate, the brain conspires against you and when someone else is also trying not to laugh, it is almost impossible to succeed. I don't think people laugh enough as it is, so it's always a shame when it's suppressed.
"Go! What the hell are you idiots doing?!", yelled Chet. I could only respond with, "Mmumumph" as I pursed my lips. Hearing this got Randy started and he let out a low, "Unnnggh" and blew a little air out of his mouth. I dared another look at the kid and he was still looking up at us, but now had one eye closed so as to maybe focus a little better. I should have never looked back, because now I was literally choking on the laughter. Randy was a wreck, suffering from what now looked like a severe tremor. I had started to sweat and briefly looked downward to wipe my brow when I saw that Cochese was now bouncing slightly in his seat. His shoulders were hunching involuntarily as he, too, tried to stifle any laughter. I was about to lose it. Tears were welling up in my eyes and my upper lip was going into spasms. Trying to hold the air that was attempting to escape my throat, I made a nasally snorking sound that made Eric and Chet laugh, even though they were getting a little irritated not knowing what the hell was going on. The kid's friends tapped him on the shoulder and told him that they should just take off.
He stood slowly and let his right hand down from his head. He looked at it, checking for blood I suppose. Randy let out a little "nnnga" when he saw that and the Indian went into a faux coughing fit to cover his guffaws. Mercifully, the kid hit the stairs and left our sight.
"Bwaaaahahahaha!!!", we cried. Randy and I fell all over each other. His knees buckled and he had to grab my shoulder so as not to go over the front of the seat. I went backwards tumbling into my seat, curling up like a baby as I held my aching ribs. We howled with laughter for a straight minute with Chet and Eric smiling in wonderment the whole time. Cochese simply stood up with a smirk on his face, turned to us and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "That was close, huh?" He then walked down the stairs and disappeared into the crowd filing out of the arena. It took us until we got to the car before we could walk straight, breathe normally and tell the story to Chet and Eric.
I still listen to Iron Maiden CDs from time to time and I even saw them live in concert again in Bakersfield in 2000. But I almost always smile and sometimes laugh out loud when I think about that night. I also think it was ironic that the kid was bonked with a JFK fifty cent piece, because he could have starred in his own Zapruder film.
guilty conscience
guilt·y con·science (plural guilt·y con·sciences)
noun
secret feelings of guilt: a feeling of having done wrong, especially something that is hidden from others or denied
posted by Tony at 9:15 PM
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