These days Bruce Dickinson is irrevocably tied to Iron Maiden. His air-raid siren shrills and cries of "Scream for me (enter name of town)” are as synonymous to the band as is their gargantuan mascot Eddie. However, for the vast majority of the 90’s he was AWOL, jumping ship in 1993 citing a combination of burnout, musical differences, and inter-band tensions. As the ubiquitous hyperactive kid at the back of the class who always has 16 different projects on the go, Bruce was never one to let the grass grow under his feet. During his six-year sabbatical from, arguably, heavy metal's biggest band he managed to produce four rather spiffing solo efforts (his debut effort, Tattooed Millionaire had appeared pre-split in 1990 and very likely hastened his exit.  

Since his return to his day job at the turn of the century and Maiden’s shift into their world-conquering imperious phase, his parallel solo career has taken very much a backseat. A backseat not just to being the frontman of one of the world's most well-known bands but also to being (deep breath) an entrepreneur, brewer, author, filmmaker, radio and tv presenter, commercial pilot, and prominent Brexit supporter. Tonight is very much about reappraising a solo career that most thought had been consigned to the wastelands of history. It is about unearthing the past and once again allowing Bruce to merrily play in musical sandboxes that sit outside the tightly guarded lexicon of Iron Maiden.

Black Smoke Trigger have simultaneously pulled the long and short straw. They win in the musical lottery by having their debut visit to this country shackled to a sold-out and much-anticipated jaunt around the isles, but you can also argue that they have rather a raw deal in that they are nightly parading their wares in front of an audience that is there to see one man and one many only. That they receive any level of recognition at all is down to their well-honed and enthusiastic stagecraft and the blatant accessibility of their material.

What is interesting about their style is that, when it first broke, grunge was very much seen as being the antithesis and antidote to heavy rock. However, 30 years on these sub-genres have merged, assimilated and blended to the point where they feel interchangeable and indecipherable from each other. Black Smoke Trigger have the air of Pearl Jam doing Guns N’ Roses covers, with the drum fills of ‘Real Thing’ era Faith No More thrown in for good measure, Their brand of rock is slick, but it also contains a good heft of unmistakable groove. It is a groove that lifts them out from being just another elongated bar band who have struck lucky.

They also consist of some seriously talented individuals. Charlie Wallace is a guitar god in waiting (check our interview here) and has the demeanour of a man who has sold his soul to the devil in exchange for the gift of pretty mean licks. On stage he is wantonly living out his personal rock 'n' roll fantasies and it is done with so much conviction and steadfast self-belief that in the main he gets away with it. Frontman Baldrick is more laid back and strikes an irreverent and chilled-out persona. He oozes with charisma, but not in a needy or petulant sort of way. He personifies the New Zealand detachment, as it is obvious that he really doesn't actually care whether we like him or not, he is going to have a whale of a time despite rather than because of us. 

There is much bigging up their impending debut album “Horizons”. The signs are good, as they manage to capture the imagination of a distinctly partisan crowd and they do so with songs that feel familiar but also bring something distinctly different to the party. The set slightly falters towards the end, and it never quite recovers from the slow brooding ‘Perfect Torture'‘ which inadvertently derails the rampant pace that they manage to strike up. But the damage is not irrevocable, and it is obvious that their grunge/rock hybrid will be accompanying several people's journeys back home this evening.

The fact that these shows have been titled “Bruce Dickinson - The Mandrake Project” would have led one to believe that we were in for either a full run-through of his recently released multi-platform concept affair or at the very least it would dominate the set. What we get is something completely different, this evening is a thorough and almost definitive re-evaluation of his solo career. In many ways, his most recent release is pushed into second billing in favour of tracks that either have been stored away in the vault for 23 years or in the case of material from “Tyranny of Souls” never got the opportunity to be played live.

Rather than a vanity run-through of a good, but rather unnecessary record (“The Mandrake Project” could quite easily have been an Iron Maiden album) what we get this evening is a hugely enjoyable reassessment of lost diamonds and a performance that consists of more vim, vigour, and youthful energy than you would concede possible from a 65-year-old grandad. Bruce is having an absolute whale of a time returning to tracks that you suspect he never thought he would play again, and he doesn't care who knows it.

At the tail end of the warmest day of the year so far, the Academy is experiencing sauna-like conditions. This makes Bruce's initial attire of beanie hat, thick leather jacket and, I kid you not, scarf both striking and distinctly odd. If his temperature inappropriate garb impends him, then he doesn't let it show. Bruce scampers around the stage with the exuberance of a giddy toddler. He constantly interacts with his hand-picked band of merry men and women. If he is not interfering with their consummate musicianship, he is front-of-house willing the delirious crowd on. Even in the down moments where his impressively luxurious lungs are not required, he doesn't exit the performance area. Instead, he mooches at the back in the shadows, obviously enjoying the impressive din his new bandmates are creating.

Even the most vehement fan would admit that there is a stock formula to Iron Maiden's material. Tonight is an exercise in allowing Bruce to be much more experimental and, in numerous cases, heavier in his output. His surprisingly virtuoso abilities on the bongos is showcased on numerous occasions and, whereas in Maiden keys are a dirty word that are forever banished to backing tapes, here the synth and keytar wizardry of Mistheria is given majestic prominence. Roy Z has always been Bruce's “other woman”. An adulterous musical foil that leads him into avenues that would make Steve Harris flinch. The chemistry between the two is frankly astonishing and the joy in Bruce's heart to work with him once again is blatantly obvious.

This evident joy is extended to the whole band, and he offers them plenty of opportunities to showcase their diverse musical abilities.’Frankenstein;, initially by Blues/Soul oddball Edgar Winter is reimagined as a sprawling Hawkwind-esque experimental banquet, complete with Theremin solo. Whilst Bruce has worked with Ray and drummer Dave Moreno before, bassist Tanya O’Callaghan and the aforementioned Mistheria are new to his gravitational pull. This makes the tightness and camaraderie of the unit even more astounding. They may only be 15 shows into this endeavour, but it is obvious that this is a band absolutely delighting in playing together.

There is always a trepidation with vocalists of Bruce’s vintage that the voice may well be showing wear and tear (and that's before you factor in that he is a survivor of throat cancer). Whilst the trademark screams are either unattainable or reserved for Maiden, his vocal delivery remains warm and full of life. He can sing and his solo stuff is designed to allow him to do that. The setlist takes us all over his solo ventures, with only “Skunkworks” and the previously mentioned “Tattooed Millionaire” ignored. The criminally underrated “The Chemical Wedding” gets massively overdue veneration with more tracks played from it than the album they are meant to be promoting. Even “Balls to Picasso” is included in the rampant exercise in historical revision and ‘Tears of the Dragon’ is glorious and unarguably the greatest Iron Maiden track they never recorded.

Tonight is all about a man revisiting his past with his fanbase and both discovering that it contains many wonders to behold. Given that the largest room in this fair city that Bruce played during his solo career was the tiny Academy 3 not a stone's throw from here, the fact that the main Academy is this evening grossly oversold is a fabulous milestone in this unexpected resurrection story. At the start of the encore, the crowd repeatedly serenades him with a jaunty never-ending chant of his name. The emotion that this renders within him is unmistakable and fighting away the tears he muses whether this untoward reaction has anything to do with Man City grasping the premiership this afternoon (que booing from the United, Liverpool, and Leeds contingents in the room).

More shows in a larger room are promised and that clearly indicates that he doesn't see this unexpected but very welcome return to his solo years as being a one-off occurrence. This evening we get a carefree and revitalized Bruce Dickinson who once again seems to be head over heels in love with being a performer. He has re-found his desire to make music on his terms. The quality of tonight's set shows that his past contains many overlooked treasures but the astounding nature of this evening's performance signals that the best may well yet be to come. 

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
Bruce DIckinson + Black Smoke Trigger