Queen Unseen Page 3

  Give him some sheet music. In the spoof rock band movie This Is Spinal Tap, the heavy metal guitarist is proud to show that his amplifiers don’t go to the standard volume of 10, they go to 11. Just that bit extra – for when you need it. Brian May had his volume go to 12 – and a half. And he always needed more…

  The answer? Everybody else turned up.

  QUEEN WERE DEAFENING ON STAGE.

  Sorry, I said, ‘Queen were deafening on stage.’ My ears are testament to that. During a hearing test some years ago, I was asked if I had ever worked in a noisy environment. I’ll probably have to put my few bits of memorabilia into auction in order to buy a decent hearing aid for my old age.

  When Queen were playing well live and really ‘cooking’, there was a huge buzz and throb that could be felt so strongly on stage, even a crew member could vicariously feel part of the band. On stage when Queen were playing, the sound you heard varied according to where you were positioned. You did not hear the balanced, mixed sound of ‘out front’, but whatever was coming from the closest monitor would dominate and prejudice. The sides of the stage were good as most things in the mix could be heard, but standing behind the drum kit gave a strange perspective. You heard the real sound of the acoustic kit being hammered plus the amplified sound of it in the monitors, and then a boom and echo off the back wall or roof of the venue.

  Behind the ‘back line’ of band gear you could sit down, close your eyes and – even with the loss of vision – feel the energy and sensory bombardment. The odour of gels burning in hundreds of lights, the warm electronic smell of humming amplifiers and the taste of smoke and dust biting in your throat. You felt the vibrations of the speaker cabinets, and the kick in your chest as the bass drum was pumped. You could reach out and touch it all: the rough edges and rounded corners of flight cases, the tough weave of the stage carpet, the chill of iced water in the drinks bins, the smooth and sensual contour of guitar bodies, and the burn of Fred’s rubber-coated microphone cable as I pulled and coiled it tight. It was best to avoid being behind the drum area when Roger threw his head back – as he would then usually spit high in the air, purging his lungs from the exertion of drumming and plenty of Marlboro cigarettes. His poor roadie would be tasked with mopping up the cymbals the next day…

  The show moved on with various hits and new songs off the currently released album, until around halfway through the set, when there would be the solo spots, where Fred would chant and scream vocal scales at the audience, for them to respond back louder. This was when he showed his true stagecraft of taking thousands of people in the palm of his hand with just his voice and charisma. Usually the show included some form of (fortunately) short drum solo, where Roger turned into Animal from The Muppet Show, and the extended guitar solo that worked… some of the time. (I was a young man when Brian started his solos…)

  Time to take a break: Roger would come down off his riser and into the Dolls House for a rest, a drink and maybe a hit of oxygen. Fred would be relaxing in there too, removing his shirt, towelling down, changing outfit, taking refreshment and then having a suck on a Strepsil antiseptic throat lozenge. John would have no solo (bass solos are even worse than drum solos) and would stroll off, take the cigarette I had lit for him and go behind his speakers for a quick puff, pausing only to throw peanuts at Brian, who would be lost in his extended solo.

  At some point around the middle of the show there was an acoustic interlude: time to sit on bar stools at the front of stage, and Roger would sometimes come forward to play tambourine, bass drum and sing. This was the only opportunity the fans got to see RMT (Roger Meddows Taylor) clearly, apart from his bow of appreciation at the end of the show. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see them, as he had weak eyesight and needed to wear corrective lenses. Blind Melon Taylor he had been nicknamed in the studio in Montreux in 1978, when rehearsing a New Orleans ‘bluesy’ number. Roger had many nicknames, the most popular being Rainbow Man. The most fashion conscious in Queen, Rog was always buying clothes, the majority in very bright, bold colours and worn in the most unlikely combinations. (He could have auditioned for the lead part in Joseph and the Technicolor Dream Coat.)

  Some of the others’ nicknames were:

  Freddie: Kermit – after Muppet character Kermit the Frog. During Fred’s ‘ballet’ period in 1977, he took to wearing white leotards on stage and when exposed under green lights, his lithe body in the skin-tight costume made him look like the Muppet character – especially when he sat on the steps of the stage set. ‘Halfway up the stair?’ (Nobody dared to address him thus, I hasten to add.) After interviewing Fred during this period, the NME music paper ran the headline: ‘IS THIS MAN A PRAT?’ As you can imagine, he was not at all happy – and a long taut relationship with the press followed.

  Usually, he was referred to by the crew simply as Fred, but, if he was being difficult, he could become The Goofy Toothed Rascal or, if he was being very difficult, all manner of uncomplimentary names – including ‘Horsey’. Nothing to do with Fred’s teeth, but with his appreciation of Russian-born ballet dancer Vaslav Nijinsky.

  ‘Who?’ the crew asked. Didn’t he win a few horse races?

  Fred used this dancer and his costumes, particularly the black and white patterned leotards, for inspiration in Queen’s live shows. Mary Austin, Fred’s girlfriend of many years, was still living with him in 1977, and had presented Freddie (she never called him Fred) with a glossy coffee-table-size book on Nijinsky as a gift. She had inscribed it to Freddie and added: ‘To the true artist that you are’.

  And typically, like Fred, Nijinsky the racehorse was a thoroughbred and multi-award-winning champion.

  Brian: Percy – after Percy Thrower, the original British TV gardener. Brian was very keen on nature and gardening, and in 1976, when I was delivering some equipment at night to his London house, he answered the door in ragged clothes, a torch in hand, with his mane of hair interwoven with twigs and leaves. He had been out in the dark attending to his beloved plants and trees. He immediately got an update to The Infrared Gardener, due to his academic studies in astrophysics and infrared astronomy.

  John: Birdman or Deaky (self-explanatory). John had all his hair cropped off military-style at the start of the ’78 USA tour and looked like The Bird Man of Alcatraz. He received it in good spirits and wore the convict’s outfit the crew bought for him for the show encore.

  The gay contingent had their own unique way of giving nicknames by assigning girls’ names to all male members of the entourage and any other ‘friends’. They would then refer to everybody as ‘she’.

  Queen’s secondary nicknames:

  Freddie Mercury: Melina (Melina Mercouri – Greek film star)

  Brian May: Maggie (Maggie May – Rod Stewart song)

  Roger Taylor: Elizabeth (actress Elizabeth Taylor)

  John Deacon: Belisha (Belisha Beacon…?)

  I was called Helen. Don’t ask.

  The culmination of the acoustic interlude was when Fred and Brian performed a simplified version of ‘Love of my Life’. Time for audience participation, sing-along and one of the highlights of the show. It’s easy to become very cynical on the road and blasé towards the paying public, as the siege mentality sets in. However, to see and hear over 130,000 people in a stadium singing perfectly in a language not their own was really something special. It may sound like an old cliché but music does transcend all barriers.

  By now, the show was steamrollering into the final stretch with big hits such as ‘I Want To Break Free’, bang-your-head rockers like ‘Hammer To Fall’ and more audience participation ‘clap-your-hands’ with ‘Radio Ga Ga’. While rehearsing ‘Ga Ga’ for the live show, Fred had substituted the word radio with the rhyming word fellatio. This caused the band to break down in fits of laughter, but the paying public never got the chance to appreciate the ad lib. Fred liked to surprise and provoke, but above all he loved to perform and to perform well.

  There was only one occasion where I was really disappoin
ted with Fred’s performance on stage, as to me he was the consummate professional. It was at the only show the band ever played in New Zealand, an outdoor show at Mount Smart Stadium in Auckland. New Zealand: beautiful country, but hardly a rock tour paradise with its severe lack of clubs, drugs and loose women; which inspired us to suggest that the authorities put a sign up at immigration stating: Check your genitals in here – you will not be requiring them during your visit. Unless you like sheep. Plenty of choice there.

  When Fred came on stage prior to the intro tape, he was late and clearly drunk. Boredom or bad influences? Both. He was late, due to Tony Williams (aka Mr Hyde), our wardrobe ‘mistress’, having dressed him with his trousers back to front, which had gone undetected until Fred began his long walk to the outdoor stage. Tony was invariably drunk himself and often had the shakes, asking: ‘Dear boy, could you help me thread this needle?’ Lovely man, who became Mr Hyde when he drank. At those times, just being his friend became a full-time job.

  As the show started, Fred was giggling and forgetting words to songs, his timing was off and he even asked me what songs he had to play – and how did they go! The show was not a disaster though, and some of the songs were played well, but Fred sporadically lost his grip and the rest of Queen suffered as a result. The encore was the classic Elvis Presley song ‘Jailhouse Rock’ and invited on stage to join in was Tony – not drunken ‘wardrobe’ Tony thinking he could have a sing-along, but Tony Hadley, singer and front man of Spandau Ballet. Tony, who was on a break from his own tour, is a great, unpretentious guy – but he didn’t know the words! A rock star who doesn’t know the words to Elvis Presley’s ‘Jailhouse Rock’?

  While crouched at the end of Fred’s piano watching him singing his heart out, I occasionally looked out at the audience and pondered on life, death and where I was going on my own personal journey. What would I do? What was this life all about? Why was I doing it? By my mid-twenties I had become a sub-Steinway sage. ‘Is this the real life? Is this just Battersea?’ The penultimate line in Bohemian Rhapsody: ‘Nothing really matters…’ became poignant to me as I often reflected on the futility of all this ‘rock stuff’ and how easily jaded we could become on the road. However, as the song ended and all the lights came up, illuminating the thousands of people in raptures over ‘Bo Rhap’, then I guess it did really matter to some people and was an important part of their lives at that time.

  As I ruminated, Queen would rip into the next rocking song and my introspection evaporated. Back to business as usual. The final song of Queen’s set climaxed with me setting a chain of pyro explosions off across the front of the stage – and singeing a few photographers and security guards in the process. Fair sport. Brian was the only other member of Queen to address the audience directly during a show and usually only once or twice. In the mid-1970s, before the final song of Queen’s set, Brian would announce: ‘We would like to leave you as we always leave you – In The Lap Of The Gods.’ (Crew version: ‘We’d like to leave you as we always leave you – bored and screaming for your money back!’)

  Queen would leave the stage in darkness to tremendous applause, stomping and screaming, leaving us in the twilight zone before the encores. All around us were thousands of lit matches and lighters held aloft, sparkling through air thick with smoke, pyrotechnic dust, humidity and an energy-charged atmosphere. This holding of a flame aloft became a common sight, but the first time I saw it in America I just wanted to stop, stare, absorb it all and see how long the lights could be sustained.

  Would you like one more?

  An encore?

  CHAPTER TWO

  ANOTHER ONE PLEASE – AN ENCORE

  (MAKE MINE A DOUBLE)

  The rock show encore – you know it’s coming, a spontaneous second coming. Or three. In the mid-1970s, a Queen encore featured Fred throwing stems of red roses into the audience. The roses had to be de-thorned by an assistant; a laborious task, and Fred complained that there were never enough blooms. Inevitably, some small prickles would remain on the stems and Fred’s delicate hands would be punctured. To improve Fred’s flower distribution, keep to budget and avoid any further spillage of blood, the choice of flower was later changed to carnations, which I kept secreted in buckets of water under the piano.

  On cue, I would rush on with an armful for Fred, and, while he tossed stems to the sea of outstretched grasping hands, I’d take his microphone to the side of the stage and prepare the next bunch. When the carnations were all finished, he would sprint urgently towards the piano and I would rush to meet him halfway on stage with his mike. Nice bit of choreography… If he was in a particularly frisky mood, Fred would take the plastic buckets as well as the flowers, and throw them and the water over the audience, himself – or me!

  Early Queen tour encores included the Shirley Bassey camp cabaret song ‘Big Spender’ (‘The minute you rolled up the joint…’). Fred would slink on stage in an embroidered Japanese kimono, which he would peel off like a stripper, revealing red and white candy-stripe shorts with matching braces. He would yank dramatically at the belt of the kimono, at which point it was supposed to fall free. Not always. In front of a packed house at Hammersmith Odeon as I frantically tried to free him, I inadvertently pulled his shorts halfway down, before nervously cutting him free with a razor-sharp Stanley knife. After that, a more manageable and safer pair of scissors was always to hand; Fred’s voice was high enough without any impromptu surgery from his roadie.

  Freddie Mercury kept everybody on a Queen tour on their toes – everybody, including himself. He would be spontaneous when you least expected it and change the pattern of his moves, rapport and even the lyrics. Whenever ‘Jailhouse Rock’ was used as an encore, we awaited new words to be added to the English language. Fred would half-talk and half-sing as he muttered phrases in time with the band, who played an ad-lib boogie. The ones I took to heart were ‘Shaboonga’, ‘Shehbbahhh’ and ‘Mmmmmuma muma muma muma muma muma muma muma muma muma muma – Yaatch!’ Mmmm? Ancient Persian? Local Zanzibar dialect?

  When we questioned Fred as to the meaning and origin of these words, he would reply defensively: ‘I don’t really sing that – do I?’ He did, and it was confirmed by the sound engineer, who played him a recorded tape of the show. It was also pointed out to Brian that when he started his guitar solo it sounded like the theme tune to the TV western show Bonanza, and finally it was pointed out to Roger and John that they were the rhythm section. The ones responsible for keeping time.

  The fixed Queen encore soon settled into place: Brian’s ‘We Will Rock You’, followed by Fred’s ‘We Are The Champions’. When Fred strode into Shepperton Film Studios for recording rehearsals prior to the News Of The World album in summer 1977 and announced he had this football fan song, it was received with caution and an element of disbelief – what was he doing now? From rock to opera, to the terraces and hooligans? It worked. Fred may have been a private and often quiet and reserved man, but not when it came to stating Queen’s achievements: ‘We are the champions – of the world!’

  I’m sure he had already seen the potential of his sporting anthemic idea and knew it could carry successfully into live shows. However, I seriously doubt if Fred had ever played football or stood on the terraces (Zanzibar Rovers?), but what he did have was an understanding of the unity involved in football matches, the passion and the fervour. Despite his somewhat privileged upbringing, Fred could communicate with and relate well to the common man – the fans. He did watch football on TV and loved all major sporting events. His favourite football team, after England, was Brazil and the wonderful silky skills they had, the smiles they always wore and their dedicated carnival army of enthusiastic fans. Fred did occasionally play ‘footie’ on stage when a ball had been thrown up from the crowd, and he would dispatch it back with power and some style. I fancy he could have made a powerful and exciting attacking central midfielder – playing in the hole behind the big man upfront. The only outdoor sport I recall seeing Fred play was tennis,
which Roger played too, whenever an opportunity arose.

  Sport occasionally crept into Queen live shows and for the first ever performance of ‘Champions’ at Madison Square Garden in New York in December 1977, Fred came on stage wearing a blue and white NY Yankees jacket and baseball cap. The New York Yankees had just won the World Series and, despite The Garden being on the fifth floor, the crowd of almost 20,000 people made the venue tremble with their response. Fred was adept at stage baseball, getting good practice as a batter when various objects came hurtling towards the stage, whereupon he would deflect them with his inverted mike stand. The Japanese are passionate about baseball so it delighted them when Fred hit home runs with the coloured plastic balls they liked to throw on to the stage. Then he’d throw full bottles of Heineken beer back in reply…

  On the Magic tour, a truly magic scenario unfolded during the second show in Munich. Apart from it being Queen’s home-from-home with a lot of friends, it was the day of the 1986 World Cup final between West Germany and Argentina. All the German crew and staff backstage at the Olympiahalle were glued to a small TV. The game was drawn and went into extra time just as Queen went on stage and the final result not yet known. Fred’s master plan, if Germany were victorious, was to come out for ‘Champions’ dressed in the German football kit and kick a ball or two into the surely ecstatic crowd. However, Argentina eventually won, and a fitting climax to Fred’s last performance in a city he loved was denied him.

  Football is the game of the people and, despite their university degrees, and somewhat arrogant stance at times, Queen were a people’s band. They always gave good value and their best show and certainly put their money where their mouth was, continually defying all the critics. It became unfashionable to like Queen and their music, presumably because they were very successful. Now, we can’t possibly have that in England – people who are popular and talented! To sustain a career in the music business you have to have, above all, quality and talent; determination, belief and endurance are also required in order to achieve at a consistently high level. Queen had it. Fred in abundance.