Mercury: An Intimate Biography of Freddie Mercury (24 page)

“Bohemian Rhapsody” was one of the first videos to get the kind of attention that videos get now, and it only cost about five thousand pounds. We decided we should put “Rhapsody” on film, and let people see it. We didn’t know how it was going to be looked upon, or how they were going to receive it. To us, it was just another form of theater. But it went crazy. We recognized that a video could get to a lot of people in a lot of countries without you actually being there, and you could release a record and a video simultaneously. It became very fast and it helped record sales greatly.

Freddie Mercury

Every great artist gets his moment in history, but he’s got to be ready for it. He’s got to know that it could come at him at any time, and be ready for that ball, and catch it, and not drop it. If they get it right, they deliver a song which touches every man, woman, and child. The sentiment is universal, it gets under your skin, and it lives there for all time. The genius, the magic, is in creating something like that and then being able to get it across, and make it meaningful and exciting. It is no use having genius and keeping it to yourself.

Jonathan Morrish

I
t was
the first hit generated by a visual,” says former record plugger Allan James. “Previously, the Beatles’ visuals and so on were just fun
little films to run alongside the singles. No one ever knew how to take Queen. It’s why it took the video to really break them. After that, you could no longer dismiss them as just some quirky camp rock band. They sent the entire industry in another direction.”

“The chart progress of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ forced
Top of the Pops
to give it a chance,” remembered DJ Tommy Vance. “Because they
had
to play it if a record got into the Top Thirty. The more they played it, the further up the charts it went. What was really incredible was that the video, directed by Bruce Gowers and produced by Lexi Godfrey for Jon Roseman Productions, was shot for just five thousand pounds.”

The video proved to be the making of Gowers, who went on to direct TV’s
American Idol
. Gowers became the go-to producer-director for music and comedy specials, which he created for, among others, Michael Jackson, the Rolling Stones, Paul McCartney, Britney Spears, Robin Williams, Billy Crystal, and Eddie Murphy.

“Gowers was making a performance video with the band at Elstree,” recalled Vance, “and shot the video for ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ on the same day in just four hours. It was truly creative stuff. He used prisms, for example, to create certain visual effects, long before electronics and computers. Where did he get his ideas from? He was inspired by the record. It was a collective of so many thrilling concepts that Bruce’s ideas just flowed. But the fundamental concept was based on a previous album cover, which Bruce had to bring to life.”

That was the sleeve of
Queen II
(1974), featuring a stark black-and-white group shot, heads-only of each band member apart from Freddie, who appears in the center with his hands folded like wings across his chest. The idea for that shot had been the brainwave of photographer Mick Rock.

“The band’s brief for that album jacket
was
brief,” says Rock. “It would be a gatefold, with a black-and-white theme. It would feature the band. Beyond that, it was my problem. I would art direct and photograph it. As it happened, I had recently become friends with John Kobal, who was a keen collector of early Hollywood stills.”

Kobal, the late Austrian-born Canadian film historian and author had been an authority on Hollywood’s Golden Age.

“In return for a photo session with himself, John gave me some prints from his collection,” explains Rock.

“Among them was one I’d never seen before, of Marlene Dietrich from the film
Shanghai Express
. Her arms were folded, and she was wearing black against a black background, and it was exquisitely lit. Her tilted head and hands seemed to be floating. I saw the connection immediately. It was one of those visceral, intuitive things. Very strong. Very clear. Glamorous, mysterious, and classic. I would transpose it into a four-headed monster. They had to go for it. So I went to Freddie. He saw it, too. He understood. He loved it immediately. And he sold the rest of the band on it. ‘I shall be Marlene,’ he laughed. ‘What a delicious thought!’ ”

Any misgivings on the part of the rest of the band as to pretension were soon dismissed by Freddie.

“He loved to quote Oscar Wilde,” laughs Rock: “ ‘Often, that which today is considered pretentious is tomorrow considered state of the art. The important thing is to be considered.’ ”

This cover was the inspiration for Gowers’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” video, which the band realized was a vital performance as well as promotional tool, as it would be impossible to play the song live in its entirety. Gowers took an image that they had previously created, then embellished and developed it, and brought it as far forward as he dared.

“It became the first record to be pushed into the forefront by virtue of a video,” commented Vance. “Today, Queen are widely credited with also having been the first band to do a surrealist promotional video, but that was not actually the case. They were, I think, preceded by Devo”—an American post-punk art rock band formed in 1973, who were early pioneers of the music video.

“But Queen were certainly the first band to create a ‘concept’ video. The video captured the musical imagery perfectly. And I have to say it had bugger all to do with Freddie. The song was the song. The visual
interpretation made it what the song became. Because every time the song had an echo, the pictures reverberated in the listener’s mind. The two quickly became indivisible. You cannot hear that music without seeing the visuals in your mind’s eye. You could say that ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was the first single to be ‘seen’ everywhere. Because this was the first video ever to promote a song in such a way.”

Mike Appleton recalled the excitement generated at the
OGWT
studio by the arrival of the video.

“A truly wonderful concept,” he said. “I was utterly mesmerized. All I had to do was put it on screen. I can remember feeling blown away by Freddie, by the sense that there had never before been anything like him. Nor has there been since. He matured with ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ He suddenly seemed like the only adult in a business dominated by a lot of spoilt, petulant kids. Queen knew exactly what they were doing, and they were gentlemen with it. I have never known a band work so hard.”

Tony Brainsby’s first reaction to the single was “bizarre.”

“Everybody thought so. I loved it without really knowing why. But it represented a turning point for me. I had taken them from virtual obscurity and seen them through to one of the greatest hits of all time. I felt like a father who’d just given birth.”

Brainsby’s ecstasy was short-lived. Queen’s new managerial arrangements with John Reid rendered Brainsby’s position untenable.

“John Reid made it difficult for me to work with Queen any longer,” he affirmed. “He preferred to use his own in-house PR people. It became a no-no.”

There would be a comeback for Brainsby. But for now, if not forever, Queen were in orbit with the man who owned the then biggest act in the world, the guy who made the Rocket Man fly.

*   *   *

A Night at the Opera
was released on 21 November 1975 and launched at a lavish party which, Paul Gambaccini remembers, “. . . was John Reid’s way of saying, ‘Here you go, Queen are now in Elton’s league.’ Reid was well aware of what he had in Queen but didn’t realize how lucky his
timing was. If ever there was a time to get Queen onto your books, it was at the release of that fourth album.”

Beyond the professional relationship he would enjoy with the group, Gambaccini formed personal friendships which were, in Freddie’s case at least, to last a lifetime.

“They were always the model of rock musicians understanding what this crazy game was about. They knew that it was a business. They didn’t expect to be each other’s best friends. All they had to do, they knew, was get along and respect each other. This relaxed, evenhanded attitude saw them through difficulties that would have split up other acts.”

“Freddie was the one I was most intimate with. He was one of those guys who, when you did meet him, you’d always go directly to the heart of the matter. He was extremely personal and honest. Not one for small talk. Part of this, I believe, is that I happened, like him, to be one of the rock world’s gay people.”

Perhaps Freddie envied Gambaccini’s courage in having openly declared his homosexuality, because he longed with all his heart to do the same?

“Perhaps. He once said to me, ‘One day we’ll do an interview, and we’ll tell it all.’ We never did. But I will say that he made me feel like a tourist,” Paul says, referring to Freddie’s promiscuity, which was far greater than his own.

“It was like he was the
real
homosexual. But while I was out there being up-front about it, he was keeping it quiet, but being gay with a capital
G
. I was just this little pretender, compared to him.”

Five days after the album’s release, “Bohemian Rhapsody” gave Queen their first Number One single. The band celebrated in style on a brief, twenty-four-date, pre-Christmas tour, playing an electrifying Christmas Eve gig at Hammersmith Odeon which was broadcast by both
OGWT
and Radio 1.

Three days later, the album also reached Number One, going platinum with sales of more than 250,000: a figure that would double within weeks. It would also hang in the American chart for fifty-six weeks. The
New Year brought even more accolades, including another “Ivor” for “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Parsimonious Reid uncharacteristically took out ad space in
Sounds
magazine, to congratulate his “boys” on their success.

It was time to plan a second American tour, this time as major rock stars. Their most grueling to date, it would land in almost every state, under the guidance of new tour manager Gerry Stickells. His was a well-starred appointment: Stickells had been both roadie and tour manager for the Jimi Hendrix Experience, and was allegedly with the star the night he died—although the tragedy was shrouded in mystery and not something he made a habit of speaking about. Stickells remained with Queen until the end of their touring career.

It was on this colossal hit US tour that the band perfected the art of the post-gig party. Queen after-shows acquired cult status from then on as the best in the game. Wherever the band played, local dignitaries, celebrities, and party people would be invited to sample bacchanalian delights. Journalist Rick Sky, whose personal tribute to Freddie,
The Show Must Go On
, was published shortly after the singer’s death, recalls a “quiet, discreet bash” to celebrate the success of a gig at New York’s hallowed Madison Square Garden.

“I had been invited to New York for an exclusive interview with Freddie, and found myself backstage,” said Sky.

“There were a dozen topless waitresses with magnums of champagne, filling your glass constantly. Nobody was allowed to run dry. Freddie was dressed in a white vest and was holding a plastic cup of champagne and a cigarette. He seemed laid-back and relaxed. He told me that the secret of happiness was living life to the hilt.

“ ‘Excess is a part of my nature,’ he said. ‘To me, dullness is a disease. I need danger and excitement. I was not made for staying indoors and watching television. I am definitely a sexual person. I used to say that I would go with anyone, but I have become more choosy. I love to surround myself with strange and interesting people, because they make me feel more alive. Straight people bore me stiff. I love freaky people.

“ ‘I live life to the full,’ he later said, provocatively. “ ‘My sex drive
is enormous. I sleep with men, women, cats—you name it. I’ll go to bed with anything! My bed is so huge, I can comfortably sleep six. I prefer my sex without any involvement.’ ”

Fame and wealth had bought Freddie freedom to indulge as much as he wanted.

“He was really going for it,” said Sky. “But it must have compromised the urge to settle down into a full one-to-one relationship, which is the thing we all crave. As he said, ‘When I have a relationship, it is never halfhearted. I don’t believe in half measures or compromise. I give everything I’ve got, because that’s the way I am.’ ”

America, and in particular New York, had turned Queen’s heads, especially Freddie’s. He had fallen for the city in all its density and intensity, and not least its underground gay scene. If by day he swanked it in luxurious uptown stores, hotels, and salons, by night he prowled the cobbled streets of the old downtown meat-packing district, today a gentrified enclave, where the most notorious gay clubs and bars were then to be found. Although most of these would close during the mid-eighties, in the wake of the AIDS epidemic, at the time they were a magnet for gays and lesbians from all over the States. The Stonewall Riots of June 1969, which launched gay liberation, had kicked off at the most popular illegal gay bar in New York. The seedy Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street off Seventh Avenue in the heart of Greenwich Village was later famous throughout the world as the cradle of gay power. The new homosexual glasnost legalized a lucrative industry serving the gay community. Sex palaces, porn theatres, bathhouses, leather, S&M, and “backroom” bars with names like the Mineshaft and the Anvil sprang up in abundance, promoting the anonymous sexual encounter. In those days, sexually transmitted diseases were not yet regarded as a serious threat.

It was at the Anvil club one night, according to Mick Rock, who was with him at the time, that Freddie first set eyes on one of the Village People. The late-seventies “YMCA” send-up group, which toyed with American cultural stereotypes—the cowboy, the cop, the construction worker, the biker, the Native American, the GI—were then a hugely
popular disco act. Rock reported that Freddie was “utterly mesmerized” by the sight of Glenn Hughes, the “biker,” dancing on the bar.