MY LIFE AS A QUEEN FAN
PETER CRITCHLEY, RANGE RIDER
PHILOSOPHER OF BEING AND PLACE
My name is Peter Critchley and I am a PhD philosopher of "Being and Place." I write on a range of issues, covering a broad spectrum of subjects. You can find my work on my Writing Voice author platform. I have a wide variety of interests, not the least of which are my favourite musical artists. I write extensively on Elvis Presley, my favourite male singer, Françoise Hardy, my favourite female singer, and, of course, Queen, my favourite rock and pop band from the moment I heard them. I have been a Queen fan since 1974, when I was but a tiny(ish) tot. I heard "Killer Queen" on the newly launched local radio (Radio City, Liverpool). 'It's that song again!' I would tell my mother whenever it came on, like she couldn't hear. She liked it, too. so we decided to buy the single so we could hear it all the time.
I go back a long way with Queen, then, if not to the beginning exactly, then pretty close, and closer than most. Queen's first album, "Queen". came out in 1973. I became a fan in 1974. So I've spent fifty years with Queen. That's half a century and an entire lifetime. I will be with them for the duration now. So I shall take the opportunity to write a little on what it was like growing up as a Queen fan.
I remember 1974 very well. The girls at school knew all the best music magazines, which they would let me read as a reward for me keeping them amused and entertained. It was in one of these magazines that I first saw images of Queen and read features on the band. They looked as odd as they sounded, and stood out even in those times of outlandish imagery. If memory serves, the critics in 1974, Queen's breakthrough year, were actually quite enthusiastic for the band, and coverage was positive. I later learned that many critics had already condemned the band for being 'hyped,' but relations at this point seemed good. Queen were possibly the 'next big thing' at that moment, but did seem to have approval. It was written!
I was a little hesitant at first. I was then - and remain now - a huge Elvis fan, fairly cautious in actions and conservative in tastes. Queen looked and sounded ... strange and exotic in some indiscernible way. Any reservations I might have had were, however, very quickly overcome by the sheer quality of the songs the band issued in quick succession. Deep down, I'm a pleasure seeker, too, and if I hear something good, I'll enjoy it to the nth degree.
Whilst I was as overawed as everyone else when 'Bohemian Rhapsody' was released in 1975, most of all I felt vindicated in having made such an odd looking and odd sounding band my choice as the band to follow. And the band kept issuing singles of stellar quality. The UK #2 'Somebody to Love' was every bit the equal of 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' I thought, identifying Queen as a band of immense proportions. The success of 'We Are the Champions' gave notice of my final confirmation with "Jazz" - I would be a lifelong Queen fan.
Living with Queen
I became a Queen fan in 1974, a commitment that was strengthened in 1975 with 'Bohemian Rhapsody' and confirmed in 1978 with Jazz.
The quality of the music Queen issued in the aftermath of 'Killer Queen' made it clear that this was the band for me. There were still awkward moments and hesitations in the ensuing years, though. There was still something unusually unsettling and decidedly disconcerting about the band. I liked the songs, but there was nothing conventional about the band. In standing up for a band that stood out, you stood out too. The double A-sided single 'Bicycle Race' and 'Fat Bottomed Girls' in 1978 had me squirming, especially when I had to sit and watch the performances on TV in the presence of my parents. Freddie strutting around in leather braces singing about attributes. As much as I was drawn to defending the band, I didn't quite know how to mount that defence, not least when I couldn't be quite sure what exactly it was I was supposed to be defending. I took my stand on Brian May's distinctive guitar sound.
My instincts told me that the band were edgy and different as well as catchy and consonent, and to access the latter you had to embrace the former. The 'critics' at school told me exactly what they loathed about the band - which was everything, leotards especially. I loved the songs and was agnostic on the attire. Whatever caught the eye. I liked the flamboyance. It was the era of punk, and all the tough guys at school sneered at Queen's frills and pomposity. That didn't worry me one jot, I considered punk to be wretched, nihilistic, and ugly, its pretensions to rebellion being taken far too seriously by 'music' 'critics' old enough to have known better and to have been taking part in politics for real, if their bite was worse than their bark (it's the age of performative politics and symbolism).
It took some nerve to hold out as a Queen fan in a context which favoured the aggressive, the cynical, and the sour. The Sex Pistols' assault on monarchy was the 'in' thing. I learned the value of never following a multitude when the price of being 'in' was to have to listen to miserable dreck in the company of miserable oafs. I learned to be comfortably happy in my oddity.
Punk didn't worry me. What did worry me was the sense that there was a character and a quality to Queen that wasn't quite my own - the hedonism, the decadence, the overt - and unusual - sexuality. It was difficult for me, as a young teenage boy, to sell the band to my parents, family members, and friends. Not least because they ventured into waters I knew nothing of. But I hung on in there, for the reason I could not but help liking the songs the band kept putting out. I remained firmly focused on the music. As did the Queen fans I knew. It was just good music, without any other implication.
Into the 1980s
1981 was the year I left school and entered sixth form college. There had been a close circle of Queen fans at school between 1977 and 1981, the members of which were an uncomplicated bunch, liking the lighter side of life and simply enjoying the music and the miscellaneous amusements associated with the band. Sixth form college was completely different. The college was part of a school that had been a grammar school until a couple of years earlier, and the students here, selected for intelligence, had pretensions of good taste. There were still Queen fans to be found here, but these were rock fans who were deadly serious about the music, with a couple of them playing instruments in rock bands. Queen were still the choice of the odds, but the odds here knew all about music and musical instruments. I remember one going into intricate detail with me about Brian May's self-built 'Red Special' guitar, trying hard to stop my concentration chips from melting. It was all very informative, but nowhere near as thrilling as discussions of the bands frivolities and excesses at the previous school. These college fans were fans of the early Queen, of Queen the hard rock band. They were disdainful of pop. This was a far cry from my previous school, where I would re-enact scenes from Flash with my fellow Queenies. There really is nothing quite like dispatching war rocket AJAX to bring back his body... But these sixth form guys were serious musos, appraising the qualities of Bowie and Roxy whilst raving about Rush. Queen, I sensed, were considered something of a fancy and a frill, a bit tasteless and musically ephemeral, but with good entertainment value. But, at least, there were serious musos around who were able to look beyond the extravagant images and occasional outrages to identify the musical qualities of the band. Then came 'Hot Space' .... I rather liked it; others thought it an abomination.
In other aspects it was much easier being a Queen fan in the sixth form than it had been at school. My secondary school was a grim place located in the industrial - and rapidly deindustrialising - north. The kids in this school were the 'alienated youth' that punk claimed to speak for, and large sections of that youth rallied to the call. I remember the violence and the spitting and the glue bags and the razor blades and lots more besides. I didn't care for it. It was ugly. Far from being rebellious it seemed to embrace a universal disappointment and defeat before the fact. There was zero interest here in Freddie Mercury's ambition of bringing 'ballet to the masses.' So the Queen fans among us formed a tight little group of our own, occasionally serving as the butt of others' jokes, but in the main being ignored as harmless oddballs and weirdos who were beyond help.
It was different in the sixth form, where all the smart kids were doing 'A' levels. Here, you had to defend your musical tastes musically and intellectually, reason your case and offer informed arguments. 'Like' and 'don't like,' as expressions of personal taste, were considered to be the unthinking and irrelevant assertions of morons. You had to have reasons here, and offer arguments.
I had the support here of the serious rock fans, some of whom were members of rock bands, actual musicians who could actually play guitar and drums, and who appreciated Queen as rockers. I attended my first school gig watching one of the Queen fans in action on drums, and was staggered to see one of the teachers on lead vocals, leaping around the stage as though he was Iggy Pop. It was some kind of validation; if you were odd, you weren't the only one.
The fact that Queen were moving in the direction of dance, disco, and pop at this time (1981-1983), however, lost me the support of the sixth form rockers. The drummer in a heavy rock band quizzed me as to what 'Hot Space' was like, as he pondered whether it was worth a purchase. I knew I was on the spot. On thin ice, actually. I said it was an 'experimental album,' but emphasised that it still contained some great rock material. I offered the one song, 'Put Out the Fire,' in support of my thesis. And that's all I had in support of my claims. It's not a particular good song, but it did have Brian May's hard rock guitar on there. Add an electric guitar and turn up the volume and you can get away with anything. I knew the band were changing, and so did everyone else. This promised more tough times and awkward moments for yours truly, putting me on the defensive.
But then came the concert at the Milton Keynes Bowl in the summer of 1982. Queen were red hot on that day in June, and I returned to the sixth form brimming with confidence. Even the musos, who were normally to be found raving about some obscure never-to-be-heard-of artist, were impressed. Some even expressed an interest in Brian May's interminable guitar solo on 'Brighton Rock,' which normally bored the pants off them. I humoured them and smiled as they excitedly told me what I already knew. For the first time, I felt like something of an expert. For once, the band were not considered a joke; and, for once, the discussion was about the music rather than the image, and any implications that that may have had.
I have to say, in all honesty, although I heard views, rarely complimentary, that Freddie Mercury was 'something,' I didn't hear that often and it made zero impact on me in any case. I liked the flair and the panache, the flamboyance and the extravagant gestures. But it never struck me one way or the other that Freddie Mercury was gay. I didn't know and could care less. I'm a pleasure seeker. If I hear something I like, I go with it. And it never seemed to be an issue. In retrospect, I wonder whether the blatant sexism of the band in some of its more entertaining (or notorious) misadventures was designed specifically to throw people off the scent. I remember a lot of fuss being made over 'Bicycle Race'; I don't remember anything like the same interest being taken in whatever it was that Freddie Mercury was. Freddie was Freddie.
American fans dropped the band in droves in 1984 when they finally realised that Freddie Mercury was gay. They like their rock'n'roll straight. I just like rock'n'roll. I'll take Little Richard any day over bands with big, long macho hair (!) and little else. Freddie cut his long hair short and sported a tash and the brave soldiers of the U.S. rock fraternity ran for the hills! Like much else when it came to following Queen, I found it hilariously funny. But I digress.
'Hot Space' was something of a transition and a trauma. The rock fans, forever pining for 1974, lamented the break with the past, whilst others chided me on 'Back Chat.' They thought it was music that belonged in a gay club. They seemed to know a whole lot more about it than I did. The sound may well have come from there, but I don't see why the rest of us can't enjoy it too. I thought it a cracking single that should have been a massive hit. I'll stand by that view.
University
I left sixth form college, went to night school and then onto university. All the time I was sensitive to the different images and impressions of Queen among different groups of people. Older people were starting to see them as less threatening (the floodgates had been opened and could no longer be closed, and there were greater barbarians to be worried about (try the politicians and the people they serve, for starters); younger people were seeing them as part of the pop establishment, yesterday's big thing.
Leaving sixth form, I went to night school at the local college of technology. I had dragged my feet in applying for university for the reason I didn't want to go. I didn't fancy doing a degree one iota, but had nowhere to go and nothing to do. So I stalled for time by spending another year doing A levels. Night school was an experience, because here I was now in the company of adults of all ages, young adults my age or a year or two older, and people in their forties and fifties. I was given a stark baptism, being made aware straight away that I was entering an adult world. I took my old folder to class, the one on which I had drawn the Queen crest and logo on the back. I was rather proud of my drawing and made a point of touching it up with my pen during class, in the attempt to draw attention to it. I received some rather condescending smiles and the odd smirk for my efforts. I learned that adults are not too impressed with your childish enthusiasms. But the ones who did smile, I discovered, did quite like the band. And folk were at least tolerant. Of what, I don't know and didn't ask. And my foibles amused the person I sat next to throughout the year. Who happened to be the prettiest girl who ever lived. She didn't like punk, either. 'You can't call that music,' she said concerning Johnny Rotten/PIL's 'This is not a Love Song.' I didn't like saying that that was one of the precious few I actually liked. It's a complicated life.
The album 'The Works' came out early in 1984, and there followed a succession of smash hit singles. 'Radio Ga Ga' was huge, and boasted a striking and memorable video. 'It's a Hard Life' was a magnificent song, too, its operatics harking back to 'Bohemian Rhapsody.' Its release coincided with what woould turn out to be the final gathering of my old Queen friends from secondary school. We sat in the pub raving about 'It's a Hard Life.' At the same time, friends were going missing: getting jobs, getting girlfriends (one got married), leaving the area, going to university. I was either hopeless, hesitant, or positively hostile on these things. When 'I Want to Break Free' was issued as a single, I took it as yet another declaration of depressed and denied desire - a follow-up to 1977's 'Spread your Wings' and a precursor of 1989's 'Breakthru.' It is a recurring theme. 'I Want to Break Free' was a return to the days when Queen fans were considered to be something singularly odd. The video which accompanied the single was .. incredible. I remember that the MP Cyril Smith didn't like it, objecting to men dressing up in frocks. We would later learn all about the things that Smith did like. As for the video, people remember the first part the most, in which the band members dress in women's clothes in parody of Coronation Street. It has an obvious appeal, especially in the UK. The most striking part of the video is the Nijinsky sequence in the middle, all writhing bodies as Freddie Mercury performed Nijinsky's Afternoon of a Faun with the Royal Ballet. I was deeply into heavy rock at this time, Deep Purple, Iron Maiden, Rainbow, Whitesnake, Motorhead. Queen were in another universe entirely. People were so busy being amused with the Coronation Street parody that they missed the truly staggering part of the video. And the U.S. rockers shouted outrage and ran away.
I survived. And Queen triumphed beyond the myriad controversies. They did things they were not supposed to do, walked the tightrope between good and bad taste (and politics) and frequently fell off. Hedonists and materiaists in an age of social deprivation and division. But they continued to knock out a good tune regardless.
I made it to university, where oddity was not merely accepted but expected, demanded even. For the first time in my life, I actually seemed quite normal and was mildly teased for being so square! I remember a young woman who had orange and green hair, wore combat gear and boots and had a tattoo of the Grim Reaper on her biceps laughing at my rather quaint tastes in all things. For the first time in my life I was normal!
Queen were no longer a new band, no longer outlandish and outrageous. If anything, they were considered to be quite boring by those extolling the virtues of the obscure, all of whom now happened to be playing the student gigs that Queen had played all those years ago. My attachment to Queen attracted precious little interest and comment in the three years I spent at university. As in none.
The immensity of Queen's performance at Live Aid had put the issue beyond all doubt, so there was no need for debate. Queen were absolutely the best band on the day, and remained the 'best band' in the public imagination for years after. There was little more to be said. Other than reminding the Johnny-come-lateleys that I had been there from (almost) the beginning. The album 'A Kind of Magic' came out in 1986. It yielded a number of big hits, but attracted no interest at all from my fellow students. I rather missed being the butt of others' jokes. I was itching to go into my default defence mode, only to find that no one was attacking. There just wasn't any issue worthy of debate any more. Queen had triumphed. So what?
By now, my mum was raving about the band every bit as much as I had ever done (turning a discrete blind eye to Freddie's miscellaneous excesses and outrages as if they simply never happened). There was nothing for it now but to just enjoy the ride and hold on. As it happened, it wouldn't last long. Which was a shame. Because Queen had cracked it. The 'Magic Tour' of 1986 was massive in size and scope and hugely successful. The band were popular with the masses. It would be the band's final tour.
'Was it all worth it?' Who knows. It was good fun, though. And I'd love to do it all again.
