The Army of Young Ones
Here’s the story of Eddie, rock ‘n’ roll, and dowhackers.
“STOP SWEARING!” It’s not the two words I’d normally expect to hear at a heavy metal concert, granted. Oh, yes. Guess where I’ve been. That’s right, an East-17 reunion gig. They have gone a bit darker in tone, admittedly. There are 53 of them now, too. There’s no gentle way to say this, but… I’ve been to an Iron Maiden concert this week, and if you don’t know who they are… well, ‘stop swearing’ is about a futile a suggestion as warm ice cream. It was the least of my concerns, to be frank. There was a father with his little boy on his shoulders and there’s no easy way to say it, that boy looked no older than five. I do appreciate that getting the young’uns involved in rock music is vital in stopping them becoming chavs, but… maybe, maybe, a tad too soon. And then there was that moment Bruce ripped Eddie’s heart out and threw it at the crowd. Good times, good times…