you might imagine this was their first tour
rather than their last.
The throng have really amassed, though,
for Rock In Rio stalwarts Iron Maiden and
their heavy metal panto, as practised and
heart-warming as Christopher Biggins in
a frock asking who’s seen his Dick. There’s
the inflatable Spitfire with a clearly drunk
pilot that takes off for Aces High. There’s
Bruce Dickinson running around in
a snowsuit against a Boy’s Own-adventure
arctic-spy backdrop for Where Eagles Dare,
smacking cymbals with a claymore during
the gallic-tinged William Wallace tribute The
Clansman, and playing the wizard in the
medieval, stained-glass Cathedral Of Eddie.
And the corpse is the star, of course, wading
across the stage during The Trooper, failing to
land a single slash on target during a sword
fight with Bruce and finally taken down by
a bazooka wrapped in a Brazilian flag. They
spare Rio any new material and the likes of The
Evil That Men Do and Run To The Hills damn near
flatten a favela or two.
It falls to final-night headliners Muse to show
stadium-level rock a way forward. Stripped of all
the standard big-gig affectations, they pound Rio
senseless with supersonic space-noise rather than
endless solos, and bring enough faceless retro-
futurist dancers playing neon trombones, firing
steam cannons and fighting Terminators with light-
sabres to make P!nk’s acrobatic pop spectacle look
like Ed Sheeran busking in his lumberjack shirt.
Muse’s current aesthetic is drawn from the
virtual-reality conceit of their recent Simulation
Theory album, designed to place the viewer
inside an 80s videogame, but their concoction
of red-pill politics, searing tech-rock, big-
concept production, austere electronica and
space-age pop tunes that often resemble
a Death Star wedding disco (Supermassive
Black Hole, Pressure, Starlight) has long made
them the only future-facing kids on the
enormo-rock block. Smothered in LEDs, Matt
Bellamy deploys his virtuoso riffs on Plug In Baby,
Time Is Running Out and Stockholm Syndrome like
Thor using his hammer as an air guitar. Warbots
are constructed on-screen and then rise from
the stage to march around during Algorithm.
Streamers explode over Mercy, God’s own
gospel tune, and an inflatable alien clambers
from beneath the stage for the encore, swiping
at the terrified kids on the zip-wire. Looks like
Rock In Rio, in jaw-dropping spectacle terms,
finally met its match.Words: Mark Beaumont Photos: Fernando
Schlaepfer, Wesley Allen, Renan Olivetti, Diego
Padilha, Marcelo Paixao, Helena YoshiokaWeezer:^ major-league^
covers^ along^ with^ their^
own^ garage-pop^ anthems.
Iron Maiden: flattening
a favela or two.Red Hot Chili^ Peppers:^ fun^
in^ place^ of^ funk-jam^ fat.