Irrational Encounters With The Modern World

Posts tagged “Blaze Bayley

Dubious Claims To Fame – 19 (c)

Of the three singers who have fronted Iron Maiden – Di’Anno, Dickinson, and Bayley – Blaze Bayley is the one who has most impressed me. He had just joined them when I first got into them, and so my burgeoning love of the band was tied to the period during which he recorded with them. Those two much-maligned studio albums hold a lot of memories for me, and “The X Factor” is still one of my favourite of their fifteen LPs – its darker style and lyrical content appealing to my then teenage angst, creating a bond that has been hard to break. Blaze was fronting the band when I first saw them, which was also my first ever music gig, at the Barrowlands in 1998.

I remember vividly (and still have the magazine clippings) when Bruce came back, denying the rumours one week and confirming them the next. I felt a bit sorry for Blaze, whose job of filling those shoes was never going to be easy for any singer, and he admits now that he should have maintained a more visible public presence afterwards rather than going to ground and burying his head. It meant that he had a harder job when it came to promoting his first solo album, the excellent melodic-thrash masterpiece “Silicon Messiah.” I saw him on that tour, and then waited years for him to come back to Glasgow. When he did, I was up north and missed the gig, but I finally saw him again nine years later, in 2010.

Back in January 2001, my admiration for and obsession with Maiden was still growing. I saw Blaze in the middle of the month, and then made my first ever trip to London at the end of it, alone, to see Maiden play two Rock In Rio warm-up shows at Shepherd’s Bush Empire. Blaze’s gig was intense – the energy in the Cathouse was intense, and I remember him getting right in amongst the crowd, standing on the barrier with one hand on the ceiling to steady himself as his band ripped through the fast, melodic, and beautiful songs. At the end of the gig, the whole band came out to the merch stall to meet the fans. When the security guys kicked everybody out, to set up for the club night, the band joined us outside the front door of the venue. They were surrounded by fans, of Maiden, Blaze, and Wolfsbane, and dutifully signed everything they were asked to. It was a freezing winter night, but the band stood there and signed everything for everyone until there was nothing left to sign.

I got my CD sleeve signed, as well as setlist I’d got from the stage. I discovered their drummer, Jeff Singer, had previously played for Kill II This – another favourite band of mine, with whom I would later have far greater involvement when I arranged to help them with load-ins and load-outs on their Scottish dates. I regretted not having any K2T stuff with me to get him to sign, and haven’t seen him since. He later joined Paradise Lost, but has now left them.

I lost interest in metal for a few years, and by chance found out that Blaze had put a new album out – I downloaded it, not expecting much, but I have come to love “The Man Who Would Not Die” and have since purchased the CD. In the interim, I later discovered, Blaze had suffered a number of setbacks – the band line-up had changed a lot, and often, they left their record label, had issues with management and finances. and his wife died just over a year after they married. Through it all, though, Blaze continued making music, playing live, and drawing strength from the loyalty of his fans. That’s what impressed me about him, as much as the great music he has made and which has soundtracked a lot of my life – that he managed to find the will to struggle on, and continues to persevere despite the personal tragedies. I have a lot of respect for him.

I saw him a couple of years ago, and dug out a few more CD covers for him to sign. He sat at the merch booth from the time the doors opened until five minutes before he went on stage, happily chatting to anyone who approached him, with a supply of pens to hand for autographing everything he was asked to. I spoke to him briefly, as he appended his signature to various rare and promo items, and then stood at the barrier for the duration of his set. I was a little disappointed that there was so little material from the debut album in the set, but aware that there had been ten years and four more albums since that time.

As much as this has been a companion piece to the other Maiden stories – and even then the only real ‘story’ as such is the Di’Anno one – Blaze is one of the people I most admire, for embodying the true spirit of the trooper. Every time he has been knocked down he has dusted himself off and come back stronger and more determined. I respect that.

Above: Inside of the “Silicon Messiah” booklet, signed by the band.



Dubious Claims To Fame – 19 (a)

I lost my job because of Paul Di’Anno. The original Iron Maiden vocalist wasn’t directly responsible, but he was partly involved – inasmuch as I skipped work to go to a signing he was doing at a record fayre.

It was 2003 and I was working in Index, The Catalogue Shop. If you can’t remember that particular chain, imagine Argos but with less sophisticated clientele. I was principally in at weekends, and the shop would regularly look like a bomb had gone off by the end of the day – catalogues, order forms, pens, and fast food debris strewn over every available surface. This was the shop where somebody ran off with one of the stereos that was on display, the police were called, and he was caught when he came back for the speakers.

In hindsight, I actually really enjoyed working there. We got away with a lot, we had a good laugh, we got loads of shit from arsehole customers, but we were also afforded responsibility and quite a high degree of trust. We abused the managers, of course, but compared to some people I have worked for since, they were remarkably reasonable people on the whole. More often than not, we all got on pretty well and had fun. At the time, I didn’t appreciate it quite so much.

The job could be quite demoralising, not helped by the deplorable bus “service” that I was forced to rely on, and I was late for my shifts more often than not. I got warnings about it, which didn’t improve my demeanour, and I know for a fact that I missed out on a promotion or two because of it.

The breaking point came when they refused me holidays one weekend, on a Saturday in March 2003 (as I recall.) It was a few days before Paul Di’Anno played a solo show at the Barfly, and as a long-time diehard Maiden fan, it was his first visit to Glasgow since I got into them. There was no way that I was passing up the opportunity to meet their first frontman, and to get oodles of merchandise signed. Nowadays, I’m less phased by it all – my love of Maiden has waned, and I don’t really bother with autographs unless I think it will eventually increase the value of the rarer stuff I still have. I spent close to £3000 accumulating my Maiden record collection – all kinds of memorabilia – and at some point I will sell it all, but the sheer amount of money and time I spent gathering it all should indicate my devotion to them back then. I phoned in sick from the train to the SECC, and my boss told me I had to come in as they were understaffed and had refused my holiday for that reason. I apologised but said that I would be absent.

The record fayre was large and well laid out, but very quiet. I browsed various stalls and picked up some more rare gems, a phrase I deliberately chose to use there because it sounds so utterly wanky. “Rare gems” – read: promo CDs, a scarf, a 12-inch or two. Di’Anno was there with some woman, I presume his mrs, and was predominantly occupied with signing and plugging copies of his autobiography. I bought the book, and got him to sign – looking back – a quite significant amount of stuff. He signed some of Maiden’s first singles and LPs, a Japan-only release, some rare US and Canadian pressings, a back-patch that I have never yet seen another of, some cassettes, and probably more besides. I actually got one promo CD signed by Blaze Bayley seven years later, and was surprised to discover when I got home that it had already been signed on the inside by Di’Anno. That was how much of my collection he autographed – I couldn’t even keep track of it all.

The proceeds from his book were going to some cancer charity, if I remember correctly. I do remember, vividly, that his mrs approached me as I walked away having chatted to him and got him to sign everything. She said that really, since he had graciously done that for me, I should donate a tenner to the charity bucket. I was caught so off-guard by this, eyes glazed over and happy at having met someone who fronted my then-favourite band, that I didn’t protest and just fished a note out of my wallet and handed it over, unquestioningly.

Once I read his book, and its revelations about his fondness for a particular marching drug, and about the fortunes he has made and lost, I had my doubts as to where that ten quid was truly destined. The general critical opinion of his autobiography was that the recollections therein should be taken with a large pinch of salt, and in the subsequent band biographies Paul has always been portrayed as being a little wayward, and a bit loose with the truth. His stories are wild and not always particularly reliable. However, he was certainly friendly and amiable, happy to talk and to answer my questions, although I wouldn’t ever want to cross him. He gets a lot of stick for trading on his past, since he only did two albums with Maiden thirty years ago, but it is increasingly well known that he sold all of his rights back to the band a decade ago now. He might sing the songs live and cover them on his CDs, but he makes no money from them any more. That might account for the benefit fraud that landed him in jail last year

His band played a gig a few nights later, and it was a set almost entirely of Maiden songs and a cover of “Faith Healer” – enjoyable, but I’ve forgotten most of it now. Like Index, the venue folded a few years later and neither company exists now. When I went back to work later that week, I had a disciplinary hearing and received a written warning, but I had already lined up other work in the theatre and with the Inland Revenue (which also no longer exists under that name, incidentally.) It didn’t surprise my boss when I went in and just passed her my resignation letter across the desk. When I served my notice and left, it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and I realised how unhappy I had become working there. Nine years later, I look back fondly on those days – it was just a completely different time in my life. We got up to a lot of nonsense, but it was great fun. No regrets.

Di’Anno has played here once or twice since, but I’ve never made the effort to go and see him again. Not because I fear for losing another job, more due to a lack of interest as my taste in music has broadened and shifted. Maybe I’ll catch him again some day.