In his most detailed and candid interview on the subject to date, Iron Maiden frontman Bruce Dickinson has recounted his harrowing 2014 battle with throat cancer, revealing not just the brutal physical toll of the treatment, but the profound psychological journey he undertook. From accepting his diagnosis as simple “bad luck” to preparing for a new life as a “storyteller” and the terrifying moment he first tried to use his iconic voice again, he has provided an unprecedented look into his fight for survival.
Speaking in a new, extensive interview with vocal coach Elizabeth Zharoff of The Charismatic Voice, Dickinson began by destigmatizing the cause of his cancer, HPV16, a common virus. “Think of it this way: I had cervical cancer of the mouth,” he explained, urging people to understand that “you’ve not done something wrong. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not a judgment from God.”
The turning point in his mental approach came from a simple, honest conversation with his oncologist. After asking why this had happened to him, a fit and healthy non-smoker, the doctor replied: “You know what? It’s just called bad luck.” Dickinson said that single phrase was a liberation. “When he said that, it made everything a lot easier to deal with because you weren’t looking for somebody to blame… I went, ‘Okay, I can deal with that.'”
With that mindset, he faced a grueling treatment regimen of 33 sessions of radiation—a total of 66 grays concentrated on his head and neck—and nine weeks of chemotherapy. He took a “combative approach” to the process, famously refusing a preventative feeding tube. “I will feed myself,” he recalled telling his doctor. “If I can’t, you can come and put a tube up my nose… but I’m gonna feed myself… I will do this. In spite of everything, I’m gonna do this on my own.”
The most profound challenge, however, was the uncertainty surrounding his voice. With doctors telling him it could be nearly a year before he could even attempt to sing, he began to mentally prepare for the worst-case scenario. He came to a philosophical conclusion about his identity as an artist.
“Am I just a human noise generator, or am I actually telling stories?” he asked himself. “And that’s when I went, ‘Actually, you know what? No matter what happens, I can still tell stories.'” He cited Leonard Cohen and Johnny Cash as great storytellers, not classical singers, and resolved that if his style was gone: “I’d develop another style in order to tell stories.”
This mental preparation was put to the test when, against his doctor’s advice, he tried to sing about six months after treatment ended. The result was terrifying. “I was shocked how awful it sounded. It sounded like a wounded buffalo,” he recounted vividly. “It just made this — what is it, Young Frankenstein? When the monster comes out and they’re doing ‘Puttin’ On The Ritz‘, and he goes, ‘Ritz.’ And that was me. And I was just, like, ‘Oh my God.'”
He wisely decided to wait. Months later, after his body had recovered more, he tried again. “One day I was just walking around the house, and I was feeling all right. So I went, [starts singing a few notes]. It didn’t hurt. And then it was there,” he said. He then tentatively tried a line from “Run To The Hills.” The relief was immense. “And I did. And I went, ‘Oh my God, it’s there. Oh my God.’… And then I went, ‘Right. You know it’s there. So leave it alone. Put it back in its box ’cause you know it’s going to be all right.'”
You can listen to the full interview down below.
