Right, so I need to confess something that still makes me cringe a bit – back in 2000, when Maiden announced they were bringing Bruce and Adrian back, I was absolutely convinced it was going to be a disaster. I mean, I'd spent years defending the Blaze Bayley era to anyone who'd listen (and plenty who wouldn't), insisting that <a href="https://rockinhorse.co.uk/iron-maidens-x-factor-from-the-guy-who-said-maiden-cant-fail-the-album-that-did-just-that/"><a href="https://rockinhorse.co.uk/iron-maidens-x-factor-from-the-guy-who-said-maiden-cant-fail-the-album-that-did-just-that/">The X Factor</a></a> was actually brilliant if you gave it a proper chance. Which it was, by the way – that dark, heavy sound suited my late-90s mood perfectly when everything felt a bit grim and uncertain.
But reunion tours? God, I'd seen too many bands try to recapture whatever magic they'd had twenty years earlier, and it's usually just sad middle-aged blokes going through the motions for punters who are there purely for nostalgia reasons. You know the type – they spend the whole gig talking to their mates and only pay attention during the big hits. Depressing stuff, really.
So when this Rock in Rio album landed on my desk at the record shop in 2002, I wasn't exactly rushing to put it on. Actually sat there for about three weeks, just staring at me accusingly every time I walked past. Rachel kept taking the piss, asking if I was scared it might actually be good and I'd have to admit I was wrong. Which… yeah, fair point, that's exactly what I was worried about.
Finally stuck it on one evening when I was doing the books after closing. Had the shop to myself, decent sound system, figured I might as well get it over with. Within about thirty seconds of The Wicker Man kicking in, I'm standing there with my mouth hanging open like an absolute muppet. By the time they hit Brave New World, I'm actually headbanging behind the counter, grateful nobody could see me making a complete tit of myself.
But it was Fear of the Dark that properly did me in. You know that bit where the crowd starts singing the guitar melody? Quarter of a million Brazilians all losing their minds together, and I'm standing in my little record shop in Brighton getting goosebumps like I'm actually there. Had to rewind it immediately and play it again, couldn't quite believe what I was hearing.
The thing about Brazilian crowds – and I say this having been to a few festivals out there in the late 90s – is they don't just watch bands, they participate in some sort of religious experience. The passion is absolutely mental, in the best possible way. When they all sing Blood Brothers together, it sounds like the world's most devoted choir. Makes British audiences look positively reserved, which let's face it, we usually are.
What got me about this performance wasn't just that Bruce's voice was back – though christ, it was stronger than it had been in the 80s – but the whole band sounded hungry again. Like they'd remembered why they started doing this in the first place. Steve's bass is absolutely thunderous, Nicko's drumming is tighter than ever, and having three guitarists creates this wall of sound that's both incredibly precise and completely overwhelming.
The setlist was bloody clever too. Opening with three tracks from Brave New World was basically them saying "we're not just here to play the greatest hits," but then giving everyone Wrathchild and 2 Minutes to Midnight showed they weren't running away from their history either. Perfect balance, really – respectful of the past but not trapped by it.
I remember playing it for my mate Tony who'd been equally skeptical about the reunion. He came round for dinner, we had a few beers, and I stuck it on without telling him what it was. About halfway through The Trooper he stops mid-conversation and goes "fucking hell, when was this recorded?" When I told him it was the reunited lineup, he just sat there shaking his head. Both of us had been so wrong it wasn't even funny.
There's this moment during The Evil That Men Do where Bruce hits a note that he's got absolutely no business attempting at his age, and you can hear in his voice this sort of joyful surprise that he's actually pulled it off. That's what the whole album feels like – a band discovering they're somehow even better than they used to be, not just going through the motions for old times' sake.
Kevin Shirley's production is absolutely spot-on too. Recording a gig this massive and making it sound this immediate can't have been easy – there must have been thousands of things that could have gone wrong. But you feel like you're right there in that crowd, getting swept up in something much bigger than yourself. The crowd noise isn't just background – it's part of the performance.
I've got loads of live albums – Rachel's always threatening to have a clear-out because they're taking over the living room – but most of them are just nice documents of a particular tour. Rock in Rio is something else entirely. It's not just a great Maiden live album, it's one of the best metal live albums ever made. Sounds hyperbolic, but I'll stand by that.
After this came out, Maiden could have easily spent the next twenty years just touring the classics and nobody would have complained. Instead, they've made some of the most ambitious music of their entire career. A Matter of Life and Death, The Book of Souls – these aren't the works of a band coasting on past glories. They're still pushing themselves, still trying new things.
Took my nephew to see them last year on the Legacy tour. He's seventeen now, completely obsessed with metal, and watching his face during Run to the Hills was like seeing myself thirty years ago. That wide-eyed wonder you get when you realize you're watching something genuinely special. Some music just creates these connections across generations – it's not just entertainment, it's this continuous chain of people discovering the same magic.
The thing that really strikes me about Rock in Rio is how it marked this turning point where Maiden stopped being a legendary band with an uncertain future and became something almost unprecedented – elder statesmen who refused to fade away gracefully. They found this second wind that's powered them for another twenty years and shows no signs of slowing down.
I've still got that original CD, even though it's so scratched it sometimes skips during Heaven Can Wait. Keep it in the car for long drives – better than caffeine for staying alert on the motorway. And every single time, when that crowd comes in during Fear of the Dark, I still get goosebumps. Some things never lose their power, no matter how many times you experience them.
What Rock in Rio proved was that sometimes, just sometimes, bands can come back stronger than they were before. It's the sound of Iron Maiden not just surviving their wilderness years, but emerging from them with something to prove and the skills to prove it. In an industry that expects bands to burn bright and disappear, it's a glorious two-fingered salute to the whole concept of diminishing returns.
Samantha’s a Brighton designer who lived through Britpop, punk, and every loud gig in between. Her writing blends wit and grit, celebrating the weird, the authentic, and the under-appreciated sides of indie and punk history—black eyeliner optional, strong opinions guaranteed.