The announcement came unexpectedly, almost whispered through the official channels on December 8th, 2024. No fanfare, just a few lines on Iron Maiden’s website:
“Stepping in behind the kit for 2025 is a name familiar to many of our fans – Simon Dawson” (ironmaiden.com).
In these dry and formal words, fans immediately sensed a void of information. Simon Dawson, drummer for British Lion (Steve Harris’s side project), was named as the new drummer for the 2025 tour, replacing the iconic Nicko McBrain. But who is Simon Dawson really? Why him? And above all—why so few explanations from the band? Thus begins a case steeped in mystery, blending rock music and crime-novel intrigue.
The official statement described Dawson as a familiar face “to many of our fans,” highlighting that he had been Steve Harris’s rhythm partner for the past 12 years:
Indeed, Simon Dawson is a musician from Suffolk, England, who began collaborating with Harris in 2012. He played on three tracks from the first British Lion album and the entire second album, The Burning, and toured extensively with Harris through clubs and theatres around the world (ironmaiden.com).
Yet, outside the most devoted fan circles, his name sounds far less familiar than Nicko McBrain’s, the legendary Maiden drummer of over four decades. The terse announcement—lacking personal statements from Dawson or any other band members—suggested that something unusual was afoot. No official photo of Dawson with Iron Maiden, no immediate interviews introducing him to the media: just a press release and a handful of biographical facts, like clues scattered at the scene of a musical crime.
Already the day before, on December 7th, Nicko McBrain himself had foreshadowed a seismic shift. In an emotional post, Nicko—72 years old and recovering from serious health issues over the past year—announced his retirement from touring life, speaking with “sadness and joy” about his decision to “step back from the rigors of touring” (blabbermouth.net). After 42 years behind the Iron Maiden kit, the legendary Nicko bid farewell to the world stage, thanking fans for making his career “an incredible journey” (blabbermouth.net). His words, filled with emotion, had the bittersweet tone of an era ending.
But while Nicko’s farewell explained why a new drummer was needed, it didn’t clarify who would take up the mantle—or how that transition would unfold. Only at the final show of The Future Past tour in São Paulo, Brazil—revealed by Nicko himself as his last with the band—did Iron Maiden lay their cards on the table, announcing Dawson as the new drummer going forward. The timing raised eyebrows: is it possible the band deliberately waited until the tour ended (and tickets for the next one were sold) before disclosing Nicko’s retirement and Dawson’s arrival? It seemed like a strategic move, almost Machiavellian—a rock mystery where no truth is revealed before its time.
Attentive fans describe him as an experienced session musician, a drummer who’s spent decades moving through rock and metal scenes largely in the shadows. Before joining Steve Harris’s British Lion project, Dawson played in several niche bands: from NWOBHM acts like Deep Switch, to the alternative sounds of D’Void (or Dvoid the Scuzz), to the ‘90s groove metal of Dearly Beheaded. Surprisingly, his résumé also includes ventures outside metal: he played with The Outfield, the melodic rock band known for the hit “Your Love”, and with Airrace, a British AOR outfit. An eclectic path that took him from small clubs to stadium openings, without ever quite reaching the fame of an Iron Maiden member—at least not until now. In the early 2010s, fate brought Dawson and Harris together. The Maiden bassist was looking for a reliable drummer for his solo compositions. Thus, British Lion was born, and with it a twelve-year partnership between Harris and Dawson, side by side on stage and in the studio. “Steve’s rhythm section partner of the past 12 years,” the official statement proudly says, suggesting a musical bond that is deep and battle-tested. This is key: Dawson isn’t some unknown upstart, but a 66-year-old veteran (nearly the same age as his new bandmates) who already speaks the same musical language as Harris.
Their long collaboration has likely molded Dawson to suit Maiden’s needs. Those who’ve seen British Lion gigs describe him as energetic, precise, able to sustain intense rhythms for two straight hours—essential traits for playing Iron Maiden’s classics. “Great drummer and an awesome guy,” say fans who’ve met him after those small shows.
It’s that field experience, right at Harris’s side, that may have earned him his golden ticket into the legendary band. Steve Harris, the seasoned captain of the Maiden ship, knows how delicate the balance is within the group and on stage. By choosing Simon—an Englishman from Suffolk, raised with the same musical culture and geographical roots—Harris seems intent on preserving the band’s British identity and the chemistry forged over years of rehearsals and gigs together (metaladdicts.com). Dawson doesn’t have to learn from scratch how to follow Harris’s galloping bass on tracks like “Run to the Hills” or “The Trooper”—he’s been doing it for years, just in a smaller setting. Perhaps that’s the real key: continuity and reliability. “As always, Steve hires only people he knows… they’ve played together, toured together, so it’s going to be smooth,” one fan commented, highlighting Harris’s long-standing preference for musicians he deeply trusts (reddit.com). In a moment as critical as Nicko’s (partial) exit, choosing a familiar face ensures a smooth transition without internal friction.
Naturally, Dawson’s arrival has sparked intense debate across Maiden’s vast fanbase. Some welcome the “in-house” choice: better a drummer Steve knows than a big name who might struggle to fit in. Others were stunned: could it really be that Nicko McBrain’s successor isn’t a household name?
But above all, one name instantly came to mind for many fans: Joe Lazarus, Steve Harris’s nephew. Joe is a talented drummer, raised on a diet of Iron Maiden—his mother Linda is Steve’s sister, and his father, Steve “Laz” Lazarus, worked for years on the band’s crew. So why didn’t Harris choose him? Why go with a bandmate instead of a blood relative? That question echoed across social media, fueled by a dramatic twist worthy of a family thriller.
Just hours after the announcement, Joe’s father Steve Lazarus broke the silence with a public (and later deleted) social media comment. His words caused a stir:
“Fair play. Let’s see what happens then. IMO, Joe could fit in without even a rehearsal. He knows the stuff inside out and backwards.” (metaladdicts.com)
Not only that—Lazarus Sr. revealed that Joe had already played “The Trooper” with the band during rehearsals at 17, stunning everyone present (metaladdicts.com). Even more telling, Harris himself had asked Joe to learn the setlists from the last three tours, keeping him on standby in case Nicko couldn’t perform (metaladdicts.com). In short, Joe had every qualification—at least according to his father.
The comment ended with a half-compliment to Dawson that felt more like a jab:
“Nothing against Simon, he’s a great drummer, but I’m not sure he can play these songs the way Joe can.” (metaladdicts.com)
Heavy words that suddenly turned this episode into a mini family drama. Music media quickly picked it up: headlines spoke of a “family feud” and “internal tensions” within the Maiden entourage (metalwani.com). Suddenly, Dawson’s selection took on even more enigmatic contours. Had Steve Harris chosen a musical “blood brother” over his actual blood? A counterintuitive decision, almost anti-nepotism, that left many scratching their heads.
Beyond the emotional reactions of the fanbase, one must ask: what truly motivated Steve Harris and the band in making this decision? Harris is famously the band’s unshakable helmsman — founder, principal songwriter, and the man behind nearly every major strategic move in the band’s history. From the outside, appointing Simon Dawson may appear both cautious and calculated. Cautious, in that Harris chose a drummer whose timing, temperament and technical ability he knows intimately from over a decade with British Lion. Calculated, because it keeps the transition within his trusted “inner circle” — just like Blaze Bayley for Bruce Dickinson, Janick Gers for Adrian Smith, and Nicko himself for Clive Burr. In theory, this should minimize disruption within the band.
But here’s the catch: this time, the logic doesn’t fully hold up.
Joe Lazarus — Steve’s own nephew — isn’t just some inexperienced hopeful. He’s a professional drummer, and has been for years. He makes a living playing drums. More importantly, he’s already toured with Iron Maiden, performing in massive arenas across Europe as part of Voodoo Six, the band that supported Maiden on a leg of the tour. He’s played in front of 70,000 people. That’s a real-world résumé, forged under pressure and in front of oceans of fans.
Simon Dawson, for all his years in British Lion, has never played to crowds of that scale. And crucially — and this may shock some fans — Simon is not a full-time professional drummer anymore. He works as a plumber. Respectable, sure. But it raises real questions: are we to believe that, in 2025, one of the most iconic heavy metal bands in history is stepping into their 50th anniversary tour with a part-time drummer at the kit? While passing over a blood-relative who’s not only younger and professionally active, but has already proven himself on big stages?
That choice, far from being cautious or clever, starts to look like a blind spot. Maybe Harris wanted to avoid accusations of nepotism. Maybe he feared the emotional entanglements of working with family. Or maybe he simply felt safer with someone he already knew in a smaller, quieter context.
But here’s the irony: the decision to sideline Joe Lazarus, in favour of a semi-retired plumber, might turn out to be more disruptive than any family drama could have been. And if this gamble doesn’t pay off on stage, the silence surrounding it — the lack of interviews, photos, or public endorsement from Nicko himself — will only amplify the backlash.
For now, all we know is this: Steve Harris made this decision with his head. But one has to wonder… was it the right headspace?
“It would be nice if they posted a clip from rehearsal with the new drummer, just to kill speculation” (forum.maidenfans.com).
A reasonable request, driven by the need to see Dawson behind the Maiden kit, to make it all feel real. But savvier fans quickly dampened expectations:
“I’d be really surprised if they did that—we’re talking about Iron Maiden here” (forum.maidenfans.com), someone replied bitterly.
True enough: the band is famous for its discretion and tight control over its public image. To date, there’s been no rehearsal video, no updated band photo, no social media post showing Simon Dawson with the others. In his “new Maiden life,” he remains a fragment: a press release, a few lines in rock magazines, a handful of eye-witness fan accounts from tiny British Lion venues. It’s as if Dawson still wears a cloak of invisibility—one that may only fall when he steps onto the next tour stage.
Meanwhile, theories abound. Observers have noted the wording in the official announcement: “for 2025”, and nothing beyond. A curious phrase that suggests the band itself is leaving options open.
“Oddly specific that it’s just for 2025—doesn’t sound like he’ll be around in 2026,” a fan mused on Reddit, hinting that Dawson might be on trial for one year, with no guarantees beyond that (reddit.com).
After all, the 2025 tour marks the 50th anniversary of Iron Maiden—celebrated with a massive series of shows titled “The Run For Your Lives Tour” (ironmaiden.com). Beyond that? Who knows. The band might record a new album (and possibly bring Nicko back in the studio, since he said he’s retiring from touring but staying involved in Maiden projects), or they might keep touring, health permitting—or even call it a day. In that sense, the Dawson choice could be part of a broader strategy: to steer the ship safely through the anniversary, then reassess everything afterward. Steve Harris—the detective behind this case, if you will—may have deployed his trusted ally for one last mission, reserving the right to reshuffle the deck later on.
There’s one detail that keeps scratching at my mind: Nicko McBrain has never wished Simon Dawson good luck—not in an interview, not in a post, not even in one of those heartfelt farewells only true legends know how to deliver. Nothing. Silence. And for those of us—like myself—who bought tickets well in advance for the legendary June 28th show at London Stadium, we’re left with a bitter aftertaste.
£175 of passion, sweat, and undying love for a band that shaped my life—and still, to this day, the event page shows Nicko’s photo. Still him. The lion behind the cymbals, as if nothing has changed.
So I ask: really? In the entire colossal machine that is Iron Maiden Inc., is it so hard to publish one fucking official photo of the new drummer?
Just one. Not an interview. Not a behind-the-scenes video. Not even a cheeky anecdote.
Just one image that says: “Yes. It’s him. This is our man now.”
It would be the bare minimum.
But instead, they leave us in the fog.
Maybe to feed the myth.
Or maybe, simply, because even legends are afraid to look in the mirror when something truly, irrevocably changes.
The solution to the mystery awaits—backstage, behind a curtain, in the thunder of drums that herald a new beginning for the immortal Iron Maiden. Up the Irons… and may the mystery come to an end.
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