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Rating:
Manowar, it is often said, are like fried lard: you either love them or hate them.
This is not my case. Let's say I appreciated them for a brief period at the age of fifteen, only to reserve them to the niche of "workout music", without any sentimental connection to them, except for two or three scattered songs.
Despite this, at the venerable age of eighteen, partly to see London, partly to accompany two friends, I found myself, six hours early, waiting for the doors to open at the O2 Academy in London, anticipating the arrival of the self-proclaimed Kings of Metal/Gods of War/various and sundry, and the concert that would follow, announced by splendid posters featuring a well-oiled chicken ready to be roasted. Or a bronze-covered eagle, take your pick.
Around me, a crowd of TRVE METAL FANS, from the guy with the Gods of War album cover on his t-shirt to the very fat man in his fifties who tells the mythical deeds of the group in the eighties, to the inevitable drunk Englishman and the groupies. And if even Manowar have groupies, there is hope for everyone. I am the only one not wearing a band gadget.
Finally, after an exhausting wait under the light London rain and among the alcoholic odors emitted by a good portion of the faithful, we are let in, after being subjected to an airport-style search: no water allowed, bag checks, and entry in dribs and drabs, allowing everyone to indulge in the fabulous and epic Manowar merchandise.
Finally, after a long wait, the band appears, and it's better than I could have imagined. Despite their not-so-tender age – DeMaio is nearing sixty – the group manages to hold the stage well. The technique of guitarist Karl Logan, the man with the most deadpan expression on planet Earth, and bassist Joey DeMaio, the only member of the band who believes in there are beyond question. Their expressiveness leaves much to be desired, surpassing only that of DragonForce. Drummer Donnie Hamzik is good but not on the level of his two colleagues, while Eric Adams, who still hits high notes like in the early “fur underpants” period, can no longer catch his breath. Of course, we are subjected to various ramblings about TRVE METAL by DeMaio, even though just looking at the singer's chubby face makes you want to laugh.
The track list is not the best and includes the entire Battle Hymns album, on which, I am told, the whole tour is based. Unfortunately, aside from the aforementioned album, most of the songs played are recent, after the group's creativity went out to buy cigarettes and never came back.
In conclusion, an acceptable concert, short – barely two hours – and fun to watch from the outside.
An experience not to be repeated.
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