Interview - Manowar Undisclosed

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Hit Parader USA - October 1984


Interview taken by Adrianne Stone

The continuing escapades Of America's Heaviest Band
When last we left our reporter she was travelling in Britain with the Warriors of Majestic Metal: Manowar. Fearful for her life, yet unwavering in her pursuit to fulfil her duty (and bring back some "dirt" on the Band), we catch up with her at the onset of the tour...

Saturday:A half hour before St. Albans, Manowar's first U.K. gig, bassist Joey DeMaio and vocalist Eric Adams, strip down to their boxer shorts and conduct a series of strenuous weight-oriented calisthenics in the backstage area. Fifteen minutes later they lock themselves into their dressing room for a ritualistic recital - a type of symbolic energizing, or rather, a "pregame rap." Hyped with adrenaline, they emerge from their quarters and race to the stage. The intro tape rolls; as the music soars to its culmination, the spotlights drape the stage with a bright glow, revealing a three-tiered drum riser (nicked from Black Sabbath's last tour) and highlighting a mirrored Manowar logo. The band hits the stage with a no-holds- barred fury. The crowd, 400 youths converging to check out the spectacle that has invaded this sleepy town, reacts at first with awe, then with mild acceptance. I can only assume that they were neither prepared for, nor capable of embracing the band's anger-strewn lyrics, filled with the word "kill" in key passages. Each musician takes a solo - all of them finely executed. Guitarist Ross the Boss dazzles the audience with his well-honed chops. Similarly, Joey's solo is a splendidly designed mixture of sped-up scales and fancy fingerwork. Midway through, he changes basses and growls. "Let each note I now play be a black arrow of death sent straight through the hearts of all those who play false metal." He then proceeds to wage a full-fladged assault of rapid, yet flawless design. The drum solo, conducted by Scott Columbus, the Fu Manchu-mustachioed skinbeater, is a steadily maintained double-bass rhythm which flows directly into Kill With Power. By the end of their premier set, the assemblage of punters shake their fists in unison with the band's last encore, Battle Hymns. In the frenzy of the show's capper, Eric wields a sharpened sword, punctuating his vocals, with thrusts and jabs. As he flings the weapon hack, he accidently catches Ross in the forehead. Blood spews forth like a fountain, spraying the cheering fans, but Ross never flinches. Later, we find Ross mopping clotted blood from his scalp. "The kids probably thought we planned this," he laughs. "This is no prop- it's real!" What did they expect? The sword was real, too!
Sunday: Bournemouth, a seaside resort in the south of England, acted as the next unsuspecting host to Manowar's road show. Paul Clarke, their manager, greets us at the sound check with the surprising news that Mercyful Fate, the openers, have not only failed to show up, but never even bothered to call before they hightailed it back to their native Denmark.
Monday:A highlight of the Manowar show is the display of the "trophy rack" before they perform Fast Taker. This prized possession is a frame festooned with ladies' underwear taken from willing females on past tours. However, the fans in Bristol decided they would be fast takers as well. When Eric hoisted the memorial aloft, the aggressive fans grabbed at it, forcing Eric into a tug-of-war he couldn't possibly win. Sadly, he relinquished his booty to the partying mob. From that point on, the men on stage were pelted with undergarments. Even the usually stone-faced Mr. DeMaio broke into a grin when a brassiere alighted on his bass.
Tuesday: The Birmingham show will go down in the annals of Manowar history. By the time the bright lights hit the crowd near the show's climax, the throng of people in the front ware leaping on stage one by one, embracing their new-found heroes in adoration. The moment of truth had arrived; Manowar came, they saw, they conquered.
Epilogue: I'm cramped into a stuffy cabin of a 747 flying high over the Atlantic towards the land of Apple Pie. Eric Adams sits to my right playing a quiet game of chess with my touring buddy."Maybe," I muse, "these guys are half human after all." As if answering my thoughts, Eric grins and mutters under his breath, "We killed those Limeys, didn't we!"

* Unfortunately, part one of this interview is not available on our records. If you have it and you would like to share (credit of providing will be given) please contact us.
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