Bruce Dickinson
Bruce Dickinson at Summit Music Hall,
Denver, CO
September 30, 2025.
Photos by Erin Moe.
#summitden #brucedickinsonhq
When Bruce Dickinson and his House Band from Hell hit the stage in Denver, the opening industrial grind of “Accident of Birth” slammed into the awaiting fans like a freight train. As Bruce howled, “Welcome home, it’s been too long, we’ve missed you,” the crowd erupted, releasing nearly two decades of pent-up anticipation. This was Bruce’s first Denver solo show since 2005, and the energy was nothing short of volcanic.
The lighting rig bathed the stage in moody reds and purples, poetically fitting for a concept tour steeped in occult sci-fi atmosphere. From the very first note, it was clear this wasn’t an Iron Maiden nostalgia trip. This was the return of Bruce Dickinson the solo artist: fierce, unapologetic, and entirely on his own.
Bruce’s vocals were razor sharp, his legendary “Air Raid Siren” piercing through the rafters with astonishing power. Backed by the formidable House Band from Hell (Tanya O’Callaghan on bass, Mistheria on keys, Dave Moreno on drums, Philip Näslund and Chris Declercq on guitars) attacked the material with authority, and reimagined the songs into something even bigger than the records.
The setlist spanned Bruce’s solo universe, with the notable exception of any songs from Skunkworks. “The Chemical Wedding” burned with apocalyptic fire, while “Book of Thel” oozed menace. “Gods of War” stomped with a swagger that made the original studio version feel like a demo. Then came “Abduction”, an unstoppable anthem that tore through the venue as if built to flatten stadiums.
Denver’s faithful gave everything back, chanting, screaming, even shedding tears. When Bruce leaned into the crowd, it felt less like a gig and more like a ritual. Between songs he cracked jokes, spun macabre tales, and delivered them with the theatrical gravitas of a Shakespearean metal preacher with the guiding hand of the poet William Blake.
Not everything was perfect. The venue’s overzealous air conditioning left Bruce breathing through a soaked towel between songs to keep his vocal cords moist. But in true professional form, he powered through, his voice unwavering, his presence magnetic.
The encore never pretended to be a break. With the stage too small for theatrics, Bruce and the band stayed put and unleashed “Tears of the Dragon,” a moment so transcendent the entire room seemed to breathe as one. By the time “The Tower” closed the night, the performance had moved beyond the bounds of a rock show. This was not just a reminder of Bruce Dickinson’s solo career. It was a proclamation. His universe stands tall, separate from Iron Maiden, and in Denver he threw its gates wide open.- Erin Moe