It may sit on the Eastern side of Canada, but tonight Toronto is on top of the world. At this precise moment 16,000 rabid metal fans are rattling the rafters at the colossal Molson Amphitheatre. Support act has just finished a blistering set in the shirt-drenching heat, and in just 45 minutes the heaving throng’s chanted wish will be magically granted.
This is no mere gig, but a nightly affirmation of decades-worth of sweat and toil – of fearless, musical trail-blazing and a rocket-like ascent to dizzying heights of popularity and adoration among a worldwide legion of fans, who – regardless of nationality – speak the same language when it comes to East London’s greatest export, and it sounds something like ‘Maiden! Maiden! Maiden!’ They’ve read the news and they know what’s coming. It’s the 13th date of the Maiden England World Tour: a jukebox-set boasting a setlist that reads like a two-hour encore. But amid the sweaty metal rapture, there are dark goings on, and deep within the bowels of the backstage secrets are being discussed in hushed tones.
It’s early August, and in a plush production office Steve Harris – for whom pre- show nerves are seemingly the stuff of bemused disinterest, is enthusing about his new solo outing. Right now only a tiny circle of industry and confidantes have heard it, and it’s with an almost impish glee the chief architect of metal’s most storied and prolific band describes the ins and outs of keeping a secret in a giant.
