Queen Unseen (3 page)

‘It’s like an alligator farting’ was the less-than-enthusiastic reply.

Back to the cable for now then…

Fred always loved a microphone cable, using it as another prop on stage by gripping and twisting it with levels of intensity, cracking it like a whip or flicking it like a lasso. Only on the final
Magic
tour with its vast outdoor stages and walkways did he switch to using a wireless microphone:

‘Mmmmm yes – it’s very modern’ he exclaimed when shown the latest piece of very expensive technology during rehearsals: ‘And quite horny as well!’

The phallic-shaped Sony microphone was different to his classic Shure one; longer, fatter and matte black, it would not have looked out of place in a Soho sex shop.

Queen’s show continued with the medley – sections of old and new material generally based around piano-oriented songs, which helped Fred pace himself. After an intense bout of rushing around, a spotlight picked him out in the darkness collapsed over the top of the piano. ‘I’M FUCKED!’ he would scream into the microphone and get a roar of approval from the crowd, which would inspire him to rise and thrust himself at the piano as if shagging it. More choruses of audience appreciation followed.

Fred did not address the audience from the piano, just the occasional acknowledgement, thank you or reference; he liked to do it centre stage, on the extended catwalk with all the spotlights focused on him. This is where he could use his body, presence and voice to communicate so well. He was never predictable and surprised occasionally by asking the front rows: ‘Any requests?’

Somebody once asked for an old Queen song that was never included in the live show: ‘Play that? Hah! Yoooooou’ll be lucky!’ he replied in a shrill, camp, rising voice as he threw his head back and walked away. ‘Yoooooou’ll be lucky!’ became a Queen catchphrase that traversed many tours. And beyond.

Back at the piano, I’d hand Fred another soothing hot drink that he’d asked for.

‘How are we going down – how is it?’

‘Good, it’s going great, Fred.’

‘Good, that’s good – and so it should be!’

However, occasionally the expected audience response would not go to plan during a show, so in response Fred would force himself to work even harder to get the crowd on 
his side – as he had to for Queen’s first ever show in Madrid in 1979. One would expect a Latin audience to be hot blooded and responsive. No. After each song, the crowd response and light applause faded rapidly. This enraged Fred, so he tried a different approach by walking to the edge of the catwalk and toasting the paying public with his champagne glass (full of local water) and a few limited local phrases. It didn’t get any better, so he threw the water over the front rows and snapped: ‘Take that! That’s for being Spanish!’ He then gestured to the sound engineer in the middle of this sedate mob, and screamed: ‘TURN IT UP!’

The volume increased and Fred then worked with fervour to get the Spanish going, and the rest of Queen too. It worked and from then on the show and crowd response was as Fred thought it should be. Fred always led by example. Returning to the piano in the blackout having won them over, and amid the screaming and calling that followed the applause, he banged his fist hard on the piano lid to emit a low hollow resonance through the speakers and pronounce loudly off mike: ‘That’s the way to (fucking) do it’.
Self-reassurance
of the magnificent talent and formidable presence that he held.

‘Is everything all right now, Fred?’

‘Yes – yes, but tell Brian to turn it down, I can’t hear myself fucking sing!’

And just
how
do you get a rock guitarist to play softer or slower?

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’.

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 
disappointed 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.