If Freddie Mercury was in the right mood, he could startle you and stroke your ego in the exact same sentence. “I hope that when you better yourself in your profession, you enjoy yourself too,” he once said to a journalist, striking where it hurts in the way that only someone comfortable with another person could, with catlike finesse.
That said, some might argue he’d more than earned the right to be that way. For instance, it wasn’t exactly “cool” to like Queen in the 1970s, mainly because they seemed too flamboyant and theatrical to be considered in the same rock categories as contemporaries like Led Zeppelin or The Who. Even those two were considered by some to be too commercial to be ‘real’ rock, leaving Queen without a chance in hell.
But doing the right thing was never Mercury’s concern, nor was pandering in a way that ensured their longevity. In the moment, it was all about doing what they did best and not caring much about what others thought, even if others thought they had a sound that was way too polished to earn respect, or a frontman who wasn’t conventional enough to lead the way. But most of this odd controversy also stemmed from media overexposure, which seemed intent on tearing Mercury down at any turn.
That’s also probably why there was a massive misconception about Queen among haters who saw Mercury as nothing more than a figure of pretence who had nothing but endless sass, masquerading the fact that he had nothing to offer at all. They’d viewed him as the antithesis of everything a band leader should be, someone lacking composure in the face of adversity because he thought it was fun to ruffle a few feathers any chance he could.
Others, on the other hand, understood that this was also someone who’d been scorned at the hands of prejudice from day one, someone who’d fronted a band from formation to commercial explosion and still lived to tell the tale. Someone who could look a journalist in the eye after everything he’d been through and dare to imply they weren’t very good at their job, because if they were, they’d be just as self-assured as he.
Someone who knew the recipe for a good rock and roll star and wasn’t afraid to reveal those who got it right. “Can you imagine doing the sort of songs that we’ve written, like ‘Rhapsody’ or ‘Somebody To Love’, in jeans with absolutely no presentation? You don’t seem to realise that the kind of public who come to see us love that kind of thing. They want a showbiz type of thing. In fact, they’re the ones who put you on the pedestal,” Mercury told NME in 1977.
“Why do you think people like David Bowie and Elvis Presley have been so successful?” he continued, adding: “Coz they’re what the people want. They want to see you rush off in the limousines. They get a buzz.”
To the untrained eye, Mercury’s standoffishness seemed exactly that – standoffishness rooted in bitterness because that’s all he had. To others, though, these were the moments that made you want to stand proud, fist in the air in support of the gorgeously unapologetic movement that was Queen. The kind that made you puff out your chest with a newfound pride and realisation that music didn’t have to be a certain way if it surely made you feel something.
