When Nicko McBrain was but a wee lad growing up in the UK in 1960, he saw a vision of his future in the flickering glow of his parents’ black and white television set.
What—or who—he saw, he dubbed “Dark Sunglasses Guy.” DSG it seems looked just impossibly cool in his shades sitting on a drum stool and bashing away behind a jazz trio. So enamored of this was Mini-McBrain that he immediately ran to the kitchen, pulled out some cooking knives (!!) and pots and pans, and began banging away.
He later found out that “Dark Sunglasses Guy” was actually Joe Morello, drummer for the Dave Brubeck Quartet. Later, after getting his first kit for Christmas in 1963, McBrain fell under the spell of other rock drummers like Ringo Starr, Charlie Watts, John Bonham, and Keith Moon while passing in and out of bands.
That was, until 1982 when he found the stool that he’d occupy for the next 42 years until the effects of a stroke forced his retirement: Drummer for Iron Maiden, one of heavy metal’s most popular, thunderous and enduring acts. And with one of the most rabid worldwide fan bases of any band of any genre. It was a far cry from the smooth runnings of “Take Five.”
Always the band’s jokester and Jack the Lad-type, McBrain tell his life story in and out of music in Hello Boys and Girls! (352 pp., $29.99, HarperCollins).
Fans of Iron Maiden will of course gorge on the details about interactions between band members, memorable records, and tours. Lots of tours.
In fact, McBrain adds his voice to the chorus of current and former bandmembers who’ve complained that managers Rod Smallwood and Andy Taylor kept them out on the road too much, allowing for resentment to set in. And, in the case of singers Bruce Dickinson and Blaze Bayley, more wear and tear on the vocal chords that necessary.
So much that when management announced that the ’86-’87 Somewhere on Tour run was actually easier at 157 or so shows versus the 189 undertaken on the ’84-’85 World Slavery dates.
McBrain also reiterates how bassist Steve Harris—the band’s undisputed leader on and off stage—runs the show then and now with a velvet hammer. And for those who’ve wondered about McBrain’s, uh, distinct flattened nose shape, he reveals here that it was broken during a teenage fistfight with his best friend…and just never fixed!
He also writes of his hardcore drug days, eventual embracement of Jesus Christ, and the frustration with how, post-stroke, he just couldn’t drum to the level he or the band wanted, which necessitated his 2024 departure from the group. Though he remains friendly with all, and now occasionally plays smaller clubs with…and Iron Maiden tribute group.
BONUS BOOK REVIEW!
While the name Carl Dunn isn’t as known to those familiar with credit lines of classic rock photography as say Baron Wolman, Jim Marshall, or Henry Diltz, the Texas-based shutterbug nonetheless was in the thick of capturing concerts in the ’60 and ’70s.
His favorite subjects perhaps were the four men in Led Zeppelin. And over the course of six years, clicked his button nearly 1,200 times across dozens of shows on and backstage. During a time of far freer media access.
About 175 of those images are collected in a hefty and lavish coffee table book Led Zeppelin on Tour 1969-75: The Carl Dunn Photo Archive (288 pp., $60, Schiffer Publishing).
The book features images from 16 shows during that period, and all but four took place in Texas. It’s easy to see Dunn’s progression as he learns his craft and wait for a certain moment, framing for emotional and visual impact.
It’s also interesting to see how—unlike today when restrictions mean photographer can shoot the first three songs of a set only, and sometimes from a considerable distance, Dunn’s “full access” meant he could roam the venue, the stage, and dressing rooms considering angles and points of view. Some of the more interesting shots he takes from the back of stage showing only the rears of bandmembers bodies, but the fully expressive faces of their very young audiences.
And he had to be choosy in how much film he used and making sure things like apertures were set. No unlimited digital “film,” automatic focus, or post-development photo editing software programs available then.
The members of Led Zeppelin must have been comfortable with Dunn early on. When he shows up unannounced at their Dallas hotel, they allow him to take picture of them and their entourage poolside and in their rooms. Thus, we see the Golden God Robert Plant (still sporting his early-era wispy mustache and chin beard) floating Zen-like on top of chlorinated water.
And when Dunn and his wife offhandedly invite bassist John Paul Jones to a home cooked dinner at their abode in Plano, he accepts.
More color photographs appear as the years progress, casting a different light (literally) on the images. And hair, so much hair dangling, flung, tossed, bone dry and wet with sweat. Appearing almost as much is Robert Plant’s thin and very white chest. Remembrances from Dunn and then-contemporary show reviews pop up throughout.
A treat for Zep fans to see all of Dunn’s work together for the first time. All the more so when you know that Carl Dunn was never a professional, full-time photographer.
