Bruce Dickinson Terrorizes Toronto with The Mandrake Project: Legends Don’t Die, They Dominate

Toronto’s History Theatre wasn’t ready. Nobody was. And yet, when Bruce Dickinson stomped onstage on September 16, 2025, with The Mandrake Project, the place went nuclear. This wasn’t a nostalgia trip. It wasn’t “classic rock in a suit.” This was pure, untamed, full-contact rock ‘n’ roll from a man who laughs in the face of age.

Opening act Crown Lands ripped the roof off the joint before Dickinson even appeared. Oshawa’s own duo, Cody Bowles and Kevin Comeau, shredded like they had something to prove—and they did. Prog-rock smarts, Indigenous resistance themes, drums, bass, guitar, keys, and a flute that would make Ian Anderson blush. By the time End of the Road hit, the crowd knew: these aren’t just opening acts—they’re future headliners, and Dickinson knew it too, calling them “fucking awesome” mid-set with barely-contained awe.

Then Bruce appeared, and the air turned molten. The Invaders detonated, Dickinson screaming over a wall of six musicians who could match him blow for blow. The guy is 67 and running circles around half the rock world. Theremin solos, bongo interludes, tribal drum-offs—he doesn’t just play songs; he stages battles, rituals, performances that leave your chest vibrating and your jaw on the floor. Age is meaningless here; Dickinson is a hurricane.

And he talks. God, he talks. Stories about immigration lines, graveyard demons, alchemists, and backstories to songs that sound like the fever dreams of a poet on amphetamines. It’s equal parts history lesson, stand-up, and horror story. By the time he explained the origins of The Alchemist, fans were on the edge of their seats, hands in the air, heads spinning. He’s the kind of frontman who makes you feel alive just by existing on stage.

Setlist-wise, it was a perfect chaos: Iron Maiden nods (Flash of the Blade, Revelations), Mandrake Project epics, and covers (Frankenstein, Fanlight Fanny) stitched together like a metal quilt of insanity. Gods of War featured a drum battle with Moreno that felt like gladiators in the Colosseum. Tears of the Dragon? Emotional gut-punch that left the room shaking with a reverent kind of rage.

And yet, the real story is Dickinson himself. Everyone says, “Wow, he’s old.” Sure, he’s old—but he doesn’t just perform; he dominates, he toys with the audience, he laughs at exhaustion. He’s fitter, faster, and louder than most musicians half his age. This was a masterclass in defiance: against time, against expectation, against anyone who thinks rock ‘n’ roll is for the young.

Toronto got a glimpse of immortality that night. Bruce Dickinson didn’t just play a show. He turned a theatre into a war zone of riffs, storytelling, and sheer unrelenting energy. Legends may be rare, but some nights—like this one—they arrive and annihilate everything in their path.

Verdict: Brutal, beautiful, and unrepentant. Bruce Dickinson doesn’t just perform—he mauls, mesmerizes, and reminds you why rock music is still a weapon.

A huge thanks to Todd Nakamine from Funhouse Entertainment for the accreditation.

The Mandrake Project

Crown Lands

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Drew Osborne

I’m Drew, the founder and editor of Front of the Stage. I have a strong love for music and photography, which started at a very young age. There’s just something I love about experiencing live music and capturing memories that will last a lifetime, and that’s how Front of the Stage came to be.