Some time in the winter of 1976, my junior year of high school, I heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” for the first time. I was enthralled. Having become a fan of The Who the year before, I knew about rock opera, and the genre of mixing musical styles in a single rock song. I liked Queen, but with “Bohemian Rhapsody”, I became a fan.
Then the “music video” came out. This was before MTV (MTV use to play videos all the time — really, they did!), and you’d see bands put out performances to be played on Wolfman Jack’s “Midnight Special”, the staple of my dateless Friday night existence.
At the time, I didn’t know Queen was more than Freddy Mercury, the man with the magnificient voice. To me, Freddy was Queen — and eventually I realized the play on words for the name of the band. I was in college before that sunk in. No matter what they did, their music was magic to me, Freddy’s voice soaring, stinging, laughing the soundtrack for my life.
By LiveAid, I noticed (as did everyone else) that Freddy was looking different. Still singing divinely, although not as popular in the US. I read the rumors in Rolling Stone that Freddy was ill. By 1990 the gossip was he had AIDS.
At dinner one Saturday, I heard the announcement that Freddy acknowledged he had AIDS. The next morning, on my way to church, I heard he was dead. That was it. No more Queen.
However, Queen lived on. I had always intended to buy Queen’s Greatest Hits Volume I & II, but it wasn’t until 2010 when I actually purchased it as an iTunes download for my new iPod Nano. I reacquainted myself with their music, and introduced my daughters to the music — The Man With the Pretty Voice, as my oldest called Freddy.
Freddy’s pretty voice is a musical tie between generations. Queen is a go-to musical choice at home. Now that I’m older, I can appreciate how much more than Freddy Queen is. But, with Freddy, it is magic.