IÊ»ll be honest: I’m not a huge Iron Maiden fan. My experience with them is mostly limited to screeching “Run To The Hills” on late night car rides, and I have a passing familiarity with maybe half a dozen other songs. I have nothing against Iron Maiden–on the contrary, I’ve liked what I’ve heard–it’s just that metal is a music genre that I’ve had extremely limited exposure to.


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So it’s hard to explain why I reacted so strongly to The Iron Maidens–the world’s only all female Iron Maiden tribute band, of course–when I saw the event page pop up on Facebook (enough so to list them on my must-see shows for June list!). It was just one of those things that you latch on to for whatever reason and feel an obsessive compulsion to do (or maybe that’s just me?). Realistically, though, I knew the chance of making the show was slim: Cleveland is a two hour drive, plus it was Father’s Day and family would be in town. But everything fell into place and by 7:15 I was in my car on my way to The Beachland Ballroom.

I arrived literally moments before opening acting Chemikill finished their set, so I can’t comment on them. I did hear the dudes around me (unsurprisingly, the crowd was 95% dudes) talking about their performance, and it seemed to be well-received. A bit of downtime between sets and then it was time for THE IRON MAIDENS.



I’ve never seen Iron Maiden live, so I don’t know how The Iron Maidens’ stage presence compares, but I can say this show was SO. MUCH. FUN. The ladies absolutely shredded, the music was amazing, there were wicked guitar solos, it was all great. Every few songs a new type of beast appeared on stage that the women would slay through the power of heavy metal. It was silly, it was cool, it was rad. I don’t know the songs well enough to comment on how accurately they were played, but everything sounded great. They even played the song “Alexander The Great,” which Iron Maiden has never actually played live.

The only downside of the evening was having to listen the variety of catcalls yelled at the stage. Hint to the dude behind me yelling, “You’re so fucking sexy,” repeatedly: the reason the guitarist is not acknowledging you is NOT because she can’t hear you. Come on, folks, don’t be creepy pricks.

Okay, the other downside of the evening was that they didn’t play “Run To The Hills.” It was a little bit of a bummer. But that’s fine, I had a long late night car ride home to screech it to myself (I totally did).