Queen Unseen (4 page)

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?

T
he 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.

He also had an abundance of crap piled on him from some areas of the press and tabloids, who were only interested in his weaknesses, lifestyle and sexuality. Despite being a very strong-minded man, it did hurt him sometimes. When the fans are getting on to a top football player because he's out of form or not scoring, he answers them in the best way – by getting the winning goal or, better still, a hat trick. Fred answered the media by writing another hit single, and Queen by producing another platinum album 
and getting rave reviews for the record-breaking live show to prove they truly were ‘the champions'.

The end of the ‘Champions' encore was the end of the show, when the lighting rig, with every light full on, moved and tilted towards the audience as smoke and dry ice covered the stage, engulfing the band. After taking their bows, hot and sweaty Queen would bounce off stage right, to the sound of audience appreciation and the ‘God Save The Queen' tape. Towelling robes were thrown around them by assistants as they were ushered back to the dressing room, where they would either celebrate, argue or sit in stony silence. Then, after a short period, repeat or rotate those three options.

How had they played tonight? How did they go down? On the nights when Queen played really well, they were truly something special and magical. When they did not, we knew and they knew, but the audience never complained. For them it was always going to be good! However, certain cities and venues certainly brought out the best in Queen and their audiences: The LA Forum, Madison Square Garden, the Montreal Forum, the Fest Halle in Frankfurt, the Budokan in Tokyo and shows in Holland or London immediately come to mind, and were where the band always found something extra. The final
Magic
tour in 1986 had many huge outdoor venues where the band excelled, and the 1981 South American outdoor shows were magnificent – the third Buenos Aires show at the Velez Sarsfield stadium was, in my opinion, the best outdoor show Queen ever played.

Nobody except the closest personnel would be allowed into 
the dressing room after a show until the mood was deemed right. At times, the room would be cleared completely while just the four members of Queen discussed the evening. If things had gone wrong during the show then the respective heads of department would be summoned to analyse the poor performance. Gerry Stickells, Queen's tour manager, would get most of the initial wrath for missed cues, equipment problems, poor sound or the pattern of the dressing-room carpet.

Once the band had left the stage, the show was over. Except that
we
still had another show to do, and the activity immediately began in earnest, the moment the band left the stage – even before the tape finished and house lights came back up. The stage had to be cleared ASAP, as until that happened none of the sound or lighting in the ‘air' could be lowered down for dismantling. Firstly though, a quick check of the stage was done to see what goodies or interesting items had been thrown up. These varied depending on which country we were in and included cards and letters addressed to the band (binned), coins, grass joints, key rings (kept), soft toys (kept, then blown up with pyrotechnic powder), cassettes (usually kept – to record over), sketches of the band and poems (binned), cigarettes, T-shirts (sometimes kept) and female underwear (kept – and filed…).

On the 1980 US tour, a few disposable razors were thrown on stage during shows by fans, in protest at Fred having grown a moustache – he predictably told them to ‘Fuck Off!'. Then, as he chatted to the audience between songs, a moustached and check-shirted ‘clone' placed a small shiny metal circle at Fred's feet at the front of the catwalk. Fred picked it up.

‘What have we here?' he screeched, holding it up. ‘It's a cock ring! Thank you, my dear.'

He came over to stage right and handed it to me. I thought it looked like a designer napkin ring. I was putting it away into BLU 8, my road tool-case, which held many surprises, when Paul Prenter, the band's voraciously gay assistant, bounded over and barked in my ear: ‘Give it to me – I want it!' No problem – it would have ended up in the toolbox hardware drawer with the other screws, bolts, nuts, etc. Paul obviously had other plans for it, which no doubt included screws, nuts and bolting…

Having stashed any decent booty, the ‘tear down' began in fraught but well-organised order. Anything taped down was un-taped and the heavy-duty gaffer tape rolled and moulded into hard balls, which were thrown at whoever was in line at the time. The local stagehands immediately cleared the stage of all liquids: drinks in cups, open cans, etc., into large plastic bins that were placed at the back of the stage. As John always had a good selection of drinks laid out for him, some of these would be consumed first as a bonus. Soundman Tony ‘Lips' Rossi would be first in. The economic Rossi, also nicknamed The Love Criminal, over a period of three shows took the remnants of different bottles of John's red wine to make up a full one. When quizzed as to why he had this re-corked and by now dubious winter 1980 vintage, he explained he was planning to woo the upper-class manageress of support act Straight Eight, a formidable fiery redhead. Some task for a streetwise Italian-American from Pennsylvania. Fully armed with the bottle of wine and a tiny amount of toot he had squirreled away, Rossi slipped over to The Park Hotel in
Bremen to undertake the grand seduction. It worked. They even got married! But not for long.

Once the stage was almost clear and all my gear was safely away, I would dash out to the truck, which was already in position with the ramp attached, to start packing. I would run into the empty trailer with the driver, and together with a team of loaders stack and place the cases like a jigsaw. In some places in America the heavy house unions would only allow the crew to point and direct loading but not physically touch the equipment. I didn't argue – but it did slow things up considerably.

While loading out, one of the obstacles incurred was that of liggers: tenuously connected persons who attend rock shows – and are somehow always in the way! The cast of ‘
has-beens who never were
' included all manner of poseurs, only interested in being seen backstage (preferably in the company of the band or celebrity visitors), enjoying free food and drink, invites to after-show parties and exclusive passes or souvenir handouts. Anything that made them look or feel important.

Liggers adopted the attitude that the whole show has been put on solely for their amusement. Dirty roadie types? Uuugh! These self-important ‘luvvies' and friends of friends never attended in Wurzburg, Newcastle or Omaha, Nebraska.

At least they were never allowed on stage during a show. That was strictly for crew, and occasionally very close associates and wives or girlfriends were allowed to watch from the wings.

‘Ratty, there's a special guest here tonight. We've said he can watch the show from your side of the stage.'

‘No way! These people just get in the way. They just don't understand. I have so much to do during the show, and you know what Fred's like. No way.'