In 1984, when Steve Harris started work on Iron Maiden's fifth album Powerslave, I like to think that he foresaw the huge swelling of public opinion that would haemorrhage in anger at the injustice of crimes against our wildlife. I like to think that that's why he wrote Rime of the Ancient Mariner, as an allegory of the curse that shall befall any scumbag who pointlessly kills a bird as spectacular as an albatross.
That's what I like to think. I have no idea whether what I think is in anyway true. But that's great art, isn't it, it's all about individual interpretation - one man's rant against wildlife crime is just another man's excuse to wear spandex. And yes, Iron Maiden's Rime of the Ancient Mariner is great art.
On Saturday I went to Buxton to attend the first conference by Birders Against Wildlife Crime, BAWC. I watched in amazement as Chris Packham uncovered a copy of the Hay Wain by Constable, spraypainted over it, slashed it with a Stanley knife and then smashed it up on the floor. This subtle demonstration was to suggest that people seem to be totally, and justifiably, outraged by the vandalism of our cultural treasures, like Banksy's vandalism of beautiful brick walls, and yet don't seem to be as concerned by the equivalent vandalism of our natural treasures, like poisoned Golden Eagles.
I listened to Labour MP Chris Williamson and the Police and Crime Commissioner for Derbyshire Alan Charles get really wound up over wildlife crime, genuine concern that almost restored your faith in the reputations of the tainted institutions they represent. And, having finally met him, I was delighted to discover that Mark Avery is just as unruly in the flesh as he is in print and on his blog - he's a very naughty boy! I met over a hundred people from all over the country, of all ages and pretty much an equal gender split (though only one female speaker!) who defied the stereotype that people who care about stuff like this are vapid, disorganised and from the fringes of society.
And back to the music. Of all the bands I listened to when I was a wee kiddy, Maiden are really the only band I can still appreciate. In my late teens I had a revelation, like many do, that 99% of rock and pop music is sort of identical: verse - chorus - verse - chorus - instrumental interlude - final anthemic chorus - fade to silence. And it's usually about one of three subjects - going out and having a really good time, falling in love and having lots of sex, or falling out of love and not getting any sex anymore.
That's why Maiden and a song like Rime of the Ancient Mariner is so impressive. Its subject matter (the poem by Samuel Coleridge Taylor) and approach to musical form brings it close to what you would define as 'classical music'. Had Maiden dressed like penguins and ditched the sweat bands, they'd have easily passed as middle-class posho classical musos. Scruffy long hair is fine - just look at Simon Rattle and Gustavo Dudamel.
The lyrics (libretto?) are below, and the legendary live version from Long Beach Arena at the bottom - and no, it really isn't a Spinal Tap spoof.
So the message - just don't kill an albatross.
Hear the rime of the ancient mariner
See his eye as he stops one of three
Mesmerizes one of the wedding guests
Stay here and listen to the nightmares of the sea.
And the music plays on, as the bride passes by
Caught by his spell and the mariner tells his tale.
Driven south to the land of the snow and ice
To a place where nobody's been
Through the snow fog flies on the albatross
Hailed in God's name, hoping good luck it brings.
And the ship sails on, back to the North
Through the fog and ice and the albatross follows on.
The mariner kills the bird of good omen
His shipmates cry against what he's done
But when the fog clears, they justify him
And make themselves a part of the crime.
Sailing on and on and north across the sea
Sailing on and on and north 'til all is calm.
The albatross begins with its vengeance
A terrible curse a thirst has begun
His shipmates blame bad luck on the mariner
About his neck, the dead bird is hung.
And the curse goes on and on at sea
And the curse goes on and on for them and me.
"Day after day, day after day,
we stuck nor breath nor motion
as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean
Water, water everywhere and
all the boards did shrink
Water, water everywhere nor any drop to drink."
There calls the mariner
There comes a ship over the line
But how can she sail with no wind in her sails and no tide.
See, onward she comes
Onward she nears out of the sun
See, she has no crew
She has no life, wait but here's two.
Death and she Life in Death,
They throw their dice for the crew
She wins the mariner and he belongs to her now.
Then, crew one by one
they drop down dead, two hundred men
She, she, Life in Death.
She lets him live, her chosen one.
"One after one by the star dogged moon,
too quick for groan or sigh
each turned his face with a ghastly pang
and cursed me with his eye
four times fifty living men
(and I heard nor sigh nor groan)
with heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
they dropped down one by one."
The curse it lives on in their eyes
The mariner wished he'd die
Along with the sea creatures
But they lived on, so did he.
and by the light of the moon
He prays for their beauty not doom
With heart he blesses them
God's creatures all of them too.
Then the spell starts to break
The albatross falls from his neck
Sinks down like lead into the sea
Then down in falls comes the rain.
Hear the groans of the long dead seamen
See them stir and they start to rise
Bodies lifted by good spirits
None of them speak and they're lifeless in their eyes
And revenge is still sought, penance starts again
Cast into a trance and the nightmare carries on.
Now the curse is finally lifted
And the mariner sights his home
spirits go from the long dead bodies
Form their own light and the mariner's left alone.
And then a boat came sailing towards him
It was a joy he could not believe
The pilot's boat, his son and the hermit,
Penance of life will fall onto him.
And the ship sinks like lead into the sea
And the hermit shrives the mariner of his sins.
The mariner's bound to tell of his story
To tell this tale wherever he goes
To teach God's word by his own example
That we must love all things that God made.
And the wedding guest's a sad and wiser man
And the tale goes on and on and on.
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