You walk through the subway
His eyes burn a hole in your back
A footstep behind you
He lunges prepared for attack
Scream for mercy
He laughs as he’s watching you bleed
Killer behind you
His blood lust defies all his needs…

That’s the thing about Iron Maiden, though;they were pre-designed for Halloween playlists. Hell, their entire iconography feels like a master class in occult rituals, monster movies, time-travelling historical horror, and pure, unfettered badassery.

Not for nothing but I just love saying “badassery”.

Anyway, this ain’t our first dip in the Maiden well. We’ve touched down with Powerslave, The Prisoner, Hallowed Be Thy Name, the utterly ridiculous Bring Your Daughter to the Slaughter, and Fear of the Dark. So it’s a bit of a fait accompli, which I’ve learned is Latin for “a compilation of feet”, which makes no sense.

But anyway…

Killers is the title song from Iron Maiden’s second album, and coincidentally your narrator’s favorite of their oeuvre. And there’s something entirely chilly and uncomfortable about it from the get-go. Steve Harris’s thundering bass work opens the song like your pounding heartbeat, as you walk the streets at night knowing someone — or something — is following you.

And whoever or whatever it is, they are irrevocably steeped in mal intent. Paul Dianno’s punctuating howls make that all the more clear.

Killers is quintessential 80s New Wave of British Heavy Metal. It has the rawness and energy of punk fused with the riffs, crunch, and thunder of hard rock and doom metal. The band masterfully evokes street-level horror, that rainwater on asphalt reek of fear in the dark. When you know someone’s behind you but you don’t dare turn around.

Call it whatever you want, but Killers ain’t a ghost story. Nothing supernatural to be found here. No, it’s violent fate whispering your name through clenched teeth.

The opening verse is third person, taunting the murder victim, but the rest of the song is taken directly from the perspective of the murderer. His urge to kill is a near religious obsession. A flash of guilt, a moment of horror, then a grim smile as he gives in again

Musically, it’s one of Maiden’s finest hours. Tight, relentless, and alive, the band sounds like it’s been cornered and forced to fight its way out. Adrian Smith’s and Dave Murray’s twin leads don’t just harmonize in lock-step metal majesty. It’s almost like they hunt together. The rhythm incessantly surges forward, unstoppable in its urgency as Harris’s bass and Clive Burr’s drumming drive you towards destiny.

And Dianno’s vocals remind you that the two albums he recorded with Iron Maiden will forever remain enshrined in metal legend.

So Killers, then. Amazing. For all its grit and grime, there’s something beautifully precise in how it all unfolds. Choreographed chaos. Grandeur taking shape in the shadows of East London.

My innocent victims
Are slaughtered with wrath and despise
The mocking religion
Of hatred that burns in the night
I have no one
I’m bound to destroy all this greed
A voice inside me
Compelling to satisfy me…