After weeks of anticipation, the rockinest Iron Maiden tribute band Live After Death came to Cassidy’s bar in Astoria! It’s a standard Irish pub on the borderline of being a dump, but the soundsystem is surprisingly good.
The crowd was filled with tattooed men in bandanas and Harley-Davidson T-shirts, the women were stanked up in fishnets, tight black skirts and lots of eyeliner. The bartendress had no qualms about showing cleavage, nor did she dally in refilling our beer glasses or Jagermeister cups.
The band was — awesome. Seriously. I’d’ve had a good time even if they sucked. But they didn’t suck. Iron Maiden music is really hard to play. If they were, say, an Aerosmith cover band or something, then you’d just expect them to be a bunch of knuckleheads having fun in a bar. But these guys — I mean, shit — they really have to practice! Those harmonies — those scales — the speed. It wasn’t just the booze — it was a fantastic musical performance.
Here I am calling out a request. They played everything I wanted to hear (“Powerslave,” “The Trooper,” “Run For The Hills,” “2 Minutes To Midnite,” “The Number of the Beast,” “Where Eagles Dare,” “Children of the Damned” and many, many more.) I think toward the end of the night I was shouting “Die With Your Boots On!” but that may have even played it earlier.
Not all of these empties are Rozger’s.
And this is on the way home. G-man is stopping at the ATM. He isn’t feeling his freshest. In a few minutes, he will achieve a full reversal at the Boston Pizza on Broadway. God bless rock and roll.
Live After Death will be in Manhattan in a few weeks. I think I’ll be there.
