Queen
At the beginning of 1975, Queen were, to be truthful, just another
heavy rock act. They were more interesting than most -
largely thanks to their OTT frontman Freddie Mercury (born Farok
Bulsara in Zanzibar to Indian parents) and Brian May's explosive
way with a guitar - but the band weren't going anywhere really.
And that's when Bohemian Rhapsody happened!
The song utilised six studios and every mixing desk trick
available to layer instruments and 120 backing vocals to create an
audacious barrage of sound in a quasi-symphonic piece which even
included bits of real opera.
And there was little to prepare the
public for either the single, or the album it came from . .
.
The track was seven minutes long and EMI were reluctant to
release it until a tape was 'leaked' to London DJ Kenny Everett
who played it several times in its entirety.
Subsequent demand tipped the record company's hand and it
stayed at Number 1 in the UK for nine weeks.
It was also one of
the first records to make use of a specially made video. Bohemian
Rhapsody went on to sell into the seven figure bracket and
boosted Queen into rock's stratosphere.
Sadly,
on 24 November 1991, the big disease
with the little name took the queen out of Queen. The
newspapers used the word "gaunt" until even the thickest
hetero Queen fan started to twig that something was rotten in the
state of Freddie.
At Mercury's cremation, the exit music was D'Amor sull'ali
rosee from Verdi's opera Il Trovatore, sung by his
old mucker Monserrat Caballe. None of your rock music.

Queen soldiered on. They recorded the Made In Heaven
album with Mercury's ghost and played the stodgy, all-star tribute
concert at Wembley under the justification umbrella of "it's
what he would've wanted" (although it's doubtful he would've
wanted Axl Rose within five miles of
the twin towers).
It would be crazy to say that we didn't appreciate how good
Freddie Mercury was until George Michael
and Lisa Stansfield attempted to fill his boots on These Are
The Days Of Our Lives.
But it was clear that Taylor, Brian May and John Deacon were
just a bunch of brilliant songwriters and musicians without
him.
For some, Queen came to represent the worst of credit-card rock
excess in the 80s. It was the decade of Live
Aid, the event at which Queen proved that a stadium requires a
stadium rock act. Sadly, it was also the decade of AIDS.
In 1981, Freddie Mercury celebrated his 35th birthday in
typically Mercurial style by flying some mates over to New York
(his favourite city) on Concord
and partying for five days, during which they necked £30,000
worth of vintage champagne and Freddie ended up splayed on a bed
of gladioli.
Untimely death lent his life a retrospective air of tragedy, of
grand opera. In the posthumous biography by Lesley-Ann Jones, Paul
Gambaccini relates the night he realised that Freddie Mercury was
going to die.
It was 1984 and they were in London (gay) nightclub
Heaven. Gambaccini asked the singer if he had tempered his
promiscuous lifestyle since AIDS went overground.
"Darling," he replied. "My attitude is, fuck
it."
Because his death put an end to Queen's 21-year career, it's
too easy to come to the conclusion that Freddie Mercury was
Queen, and vice versa. It's true that his incredible drive lay
behind their formation in 1970 (guess who thought of the name,
too).
A year into their nascent career, Brian May was still mid-PhD,
Roger Taylor was doing a biology degree and John Deacon was an
electronics student. Thus, the task of keeping the fire burning
beneath the group befell Mercury.
May had been developing what would become the "Queen
guitar sound" since the age of 16, when he had custom-built
his own instrument out of an old mahogany fireplace. He played
with an old sixpence that would subsequently earn him untold
millions.

Take May out of Queen and the group is just as bereft as
without Mercury. To consider Mercury's sparing solo work is to
answer the question: is he the equal of Queen when away from them? After
all, he is credited as sole songwriter on many of the band's key
early hits (Bohemian Rhapsody, Killer Queen, We
Are The Champions, Don't Stop Me Now). Did he really
need the hairy blokes with doctorates? At the end of the day, yes.
Queen defined post-Beatles British
rock, for better or for worse. More importantly, Freddie Mercury
rewrote the job description for "frontman" and lived out
every single one of his fantasies on behalf of Queen fans
everywhere. Let them rest in peace now.
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