Raising Hell: The Bloody and Bizarre Iron Maiden Concert That Shocked the World

In the world of rock and metal, pushing the limits is almost a given. Ozzy Osbourne once famously bit off the head of a bat (believing it to be a fake); Alice Cooper took it a step further by posing naked with a boa constrictor; and KISS even blended some of their own blood into the ink for their 1977 Marvel comic book.

However, few bands have taken theatrics to such a gruesome extreme as Iron Maiden. The band's August 1993 concert in London is considered one of the most extravagant and unsettling live shows in history. Imagine a performance where a guitarist's severed hands continue to play, and the lead singer gets decapitated during the show’s shocking finale.

A Bloody Show Like No Other

Raising Hell was conceived by Semaphore Entertainment Group (SEG), a pay-per-view production company that had struck gold with a New Kids on the Block special in 1990. This event became one of the highest-grossing pay-television broadcasts at the time. Traditionally, boxing had dominated the pay-per-view market, but SEG saw an opportunity to tap into the 12 million homes capable of purchasing premium events.

Their next venture was a bold departure from boy band territory. “They wanted to create a concert that revolved around a hellish party theme,” recalls Simon Drake, a UK-based magician, in an interview with Mytour.

SEG envisioned an unforgettable show combining heavy metal with mind-bending theatrics. They initially approached Ricky Jay, a renowned master of sleight of hand and occasional actor. Jay, in turn, recommended Simon Drake, a magician known for his shocking illusions on British TV and his own series, The Secret Cabaret. Drake was famous for stunts like sawing an assistant in half—and then not bothering to put her back together.

“I think I was once named ‘most violent magician’ on a TV show,” Drake recalls with a laugh. “At the time, my approach to magic was very [Quentin] Tarantino-esque—like a mix of shock and wonder. One moment, you’d witness something unsettling; the next, it would be pure enchantment.” That is, of course, if audiences could look past the lingering stage blood.

SEG and Drake began brainstorming which artists would pair well with his macabre illusions. Ministry and Ozzy Osbourne were considered, but then SEG learned that Drake had previously performed live to promote Iron Maiden’s album, Fear of the Dark. “I suggested reaching out to them,” Drake says. “They were thrilled to jump on board.”

"Drenched in Blood"

Iron Maiden was founded in 1975 by bassist Steve Harris and eventually solidified a legendary lineup featuring Harris, vocalist Bruce Dickinson, guitarists Dave Murray and Adrian Smith, and drummer Clive Burr. (For the special, Dickinson, Harris, and Murray were joined by guitarist Janick Gers and drummer Nicko McBrain.) The band dominated the ‘80s with seven hit albums, amassing a rabid fanbase while also facing backlash during the satanic panic era, which saw metal bands accused of corrupting youth. By the ‘90s, however, a little onstage bloodshed was controversial—but not enough to spark mass outrage.

During rehearsals, Drake was surprised that SEG wanted to push the gore even further. “I remember the producers telling me, ‘No, Simon, we need more blood!’ I asked, ‘Really?’ and they insisted, ‘Yes! Buckets of blood!’”

Once SEG and Drake locked in Iron Maiden, Drake traveled to Portugal, where the band was on tour, to start crafting the special. “I jotted down a ton of ideas, like cutting off Stevie’s arms and having them play a solo,” Drake recalls. “Getting to perform a solo on stage with Iron Maiden—that’s the ultimate fan fantasy."

The final illusions combined elements from Drake’s past performances with brand-new tricks that had never been tested before. “Stuff like decapitating a guy and kicking his head around like a football, or tearing a girl’s heart out—that was all created just for this show,” he says.

Since the production needed to accommodate both Drake’s elaborate illusions and Iron Maiden’s full stage setup, they opted against a traditional concert venue and instead chose Pinewood Studios—a legendary film soundstage in Iver Heath, England, known for housing James Bond films, Star Wars, and other Hollywood blockbusters. “The audience was a mix of Iron Maiden fans and my television fans,” Drake explains. “It was an L-shaped stage, and we bussed in loads of people. I can’t remember if it was 500 or 1000.”

Iron Maiden tore through 17 songs while Drake executed his increasingly gruesome illusions. He stabbed a knife into his own forearm, drawing both stage blood and a loud "Oahhhhh!" from the audience; he contorted an assistant’s limbs like a Stretch Armstrong doll and drilled through another’s head. As if playing a solo with a guitarist’s severed hands wasn’t enough, Drake capped off the night by abducting Bruce Dickinson and locking him inside a literal iron maiden—an infamous but largely apocryphal medieval torture device. As a grand finale, the band’s monstrous mascot, Eddie, mounted Dickinson’s severed head on a pole before impaling Drake himself on a stake.

Bloodstains and Aftermath

While fans of both Iron Maiden and Drake embraced the show, it didn’t make much of a splash when it aired on American pay-per-view for $19.95 on August 28, 1993. The Grand Guignol aesthetic wasn’t for everyone. When the concert was broadcast on British television, three of the bloodiest tricks were cut; during an early screening, an SEG executive even fainted from the sheer amount of gore.

It became evident that pay-per-view audiences were more interested in combat sports than concerts. While a big fight in Las Vegas was out of reach for most, a concert tour was likely to hit a city near them. Adapting to this shift, SEG pivoted to an even bloodier spectacle—this time, with real consequences. In 1993, they launched the Ultimate Fighting Championship.

As for Drake, while he appreciated working with Iron Maiden, the experience had its share of challenges.

“Television can be frustrating at times,” he admits. “I had meticulously rehearsed routines set to the music of Metallica, Jeff Beck, and others. But then [SEG] replaced it all with generic library tracks. Their priority was cutting costs—mine was crafting compelling entertainment.”

Though Drake never believed that hard rock or metal had a harmful influence, he was unsettled by how some audience members reacted to his grisly illusions. “I was leaning into this exaggerated, horror-infused persona,” he explains. “But looking down at the crowd, they weren’t in on the joke. They weren’t seeing it as theatrical—they thought it was real. They didn’t fully grasp what I was trying to do.”

After Raising Hell, Drake decided to retire the horror character he had embodied on stage. He also stepped away from television and other performance venues, choosing instead to create his own. For the past 25 years, he has run London’s House of Magic, an immersive venue where guests can enjoy live magic, eerie tours, and dining experiences.

“We just hosted a vegan wedding,” Drake says with a chuckle. It’s a world apart from Iron Maiden, but the band’s fans still drop by now and then. And as for Bruce Dickinson’s severed head? Drake is fairly certain he’s still got it tucked away somewhere.