A
work colleague was once commenting on Brian’s many talents – having
adoctorate, being an awesome
guitarist etc. – how some people have it all…I didn’t say too much in reply – I’d been following Brian’s site for many months,
and knew that these things didn’t save him from many problems. In this
interview, he talks about some of those – the depression resulting
from his marriage break-up, and the passing of his father and Freddie.
Things are clearly a lot easier now – he’s in a loving marriage with
Anita Dobson and enjoys seeing his children grow into young adults.
Interesting
points in the interview for me were:
-
‘Too Much Love Will Kill You’ was written when he thought ‘I was
going to die being utterly depressed. I’m proud it’s helped others
who realise “He made it out”’.
-
Brian didn’t go in for drugs because he’d wanted to know ‘what was
real and what wasn’t’ when looking back in 20 years time. That’s
clearly very good thinking, although he admits that all of the group had
thought of leaving many times.
(However,
many years ago, he himself gave an explanation as to why they stayed
together - because ‘Queen is a lot better than any one of us’).
-His ideas on homogenised
opinion and suppression of the individual, especially this: ‘Political
correctness frustrates me, too because it stops people speaking their
minds. We’re still a racist society, and political correctness gives
the false impression it’s gone away’.
How
true! I’d add to that, in fact, and say that when political
correctness goes crazy it actually blurs the real issues.
All
in all an interesting interview, despite concentrating on the poor
reviews of the musical rather than its international success.
On the road again next spring – it’s taken a
long time, and not having a lead singer has prevented the move until now
– it will be Paul Rodgers who’ll be filling that role. Some are
suggesting that the name of Queen shouldn’t be used because it’s not
the same without Freddie. This is, of course, true, and it’s also true
that nobody replaces him. But the entity of Queen exists as four people,
and it also transcends those four people. The two of them who’re left
therefore have the right to maintain the entity – the band, the group,
which came to engender a spirit. So long as the spirit exists, the name
exists too. It would, in fact, dishonour Freddie to dispose of the name,
and the same applies to ‘Deaky’. The name lives on, beyond any
individual. What it’s all about is what four people have contributed
to a whole – their creations in the songs above all else. The time is
now right. There are points in time which transcend time, just as there
are points in space which transcend space.
So another Queen tour it is….there is no
other name.
In
the June 2005 edition of Classic Rock magazine, Velvet Revolver’s
drummer Matt Sorum covered the Top 50 drummers, where Roger came in
at no. 37. In August's edition
of ‘Rhythm’ Magazine, Foo Fighters Drummer Taylor Hawkins
interviewed Roger, links to scans here:
Roger,
with two of his daughters, receiving the cheap-looking Trophy (even
the name of the song is wrong!) from the BBC TV programme ‘Top
Gear’ for ‘Best Driving Song’, original broadcast: 7 August
2005. (Thanks to Sarah for
the screen cap!)
Roger
in the original video of the ‘Best Driving Song’: Don’t
‘Stop Me Now’!!!
(Song
recorded for the ‘Jazz’ album, composed by Freddie Mercury)
Inspired by the visit of Ken Testi, to the
Fan Club Convention in 2005, here are some pictures concerning
Freddie’s early bands – Ibex, The Wreckage and Larry Lurex:
(Above and Below) Record Collector, November
2000
Record Collector Dec ‘92
Another
early item - my contribution to Ale's Site, www.queencuttings.com,
an article from a teen magazine called Music Star, 20 April 1974, just
after Queen's first UK hit with 'Seven Seas of Rhye':
Oct 06: The following article
is quite topical because the Smile concert at the Royal Albert Hall in
1969 is mentioned, and Brian and Roger recently attended the Paul
Rodgers solo concert at the same venue! It also makes mention of Brian's
astronomy studies, which he has applied to the recently published book
'Bang! The Complete History of the Universe'
QUEEN BEFORE QUEEN - THE 1960s
RECORDINGS - PART 3: SMILE
RECORD COLLECTOR, JAN 1996, NO. 197
SMILE BROUGHT TOGETHER THE TALENTS
OF ROGER TAYLOR AND BRIAN MAY FOR THE FIRST TIME, LASTED JUST 18 MONTHS,
AND BECAME THE FIRST PRE-FREDDIE OUTFIT TO SIGN TO A MAJOR LABEL.
Initial research: John S. Stuart.
Additional research & text: Andy Davis
"Smile were really a semi-pro
outfit. We hadn't made the big jump to go professional. I guess we
couldn't because we were all still at college". That's how Brian
May described the immediate pre-cursor to Queen in the recent video
documentary, "Champions of the World". With May on guitar and
Roger Taylor on drums, Smile featured half the members of the band
which, with Freddie Mercury centre stage, went on to scale heights only
the Beatles and the Rolling Stones have ever rivalled.
"By hook or by crook",
continued May, "we got this gig at the Royal Albert Hall, which was
at the bottom of the bill. We actually got our first review, which was
in 'The Times', and said something like, 'the loudest group in the
western world has unplugged and left the stage'. But it didn't say who
it was."
The gig May described was a benefit
concert for the National Council for the Unmarried Mother and Her Child
on 27th February, 1969 - back in the days when bearing illegitimate
children wasn't yet considered a crime against the state. Smile weren't
quite bottom of the bill - they played ahead of Free, then only recently
formed - but if there was any truth in the 'Times' report, it was that
the band was certainly loud.
"We wanted to be heavy,"
says Tim Staffell, the third and most vocal member of Smile. "Then
we wanted to be intelligent. They were our criteria. But we had
disciplined loudness, we didn't just rely on power to punch a song
through. We made songs dynamic in the proper sense of the word."
Tim Staffell first met Brian May at
Hampton Grammar School in Middlesex, and had been lead singer in Brian's
schoolboy band, 1984. That group lasted about four years, and counted a
1967 support slot for Jimi Hendrix at Kensington's Imperial College
(where Brian enrolled to study astronomy after leaving Hampton) among
its greatest achievements.
Very much Brian May's baby, Smile
was a giant leap towards the sort of professional group 1984 dreamt
about becoming. "Brian put an advert for a drummer on the student
union board at Imperial and Roger came along," remembers Tim, who
was studying graphics at Ealing College of Art, a few miles west of
Imperial. An audition at Roger's Shepherds Bush flat, followed shortly
afterwards. "Roger was excellent, a good player," Tim says.
"He was really confident and flamboyant. I loved the way he used to
sit up and hit his crash cymbal and then deaden it immediately. He was
funny, too. A good bloke."
Taylor had moved to London from
Cornwall in 1967 to study dentistry at the London Hospital Medical
School in Whitechapel. As the leader of his own group, the Reaction,
he'd progressed through R&B and soul to become a powerful exponent
of the newly- emerging genre of 'rock'. Taylor had not only been drummer
with the Reaction, but also their vocalist. With Smile, however, he
seemed content to let bassist Tim Staffell take the lead. But his role
was far from a supporting one. "Roger turned a straight line into a
triangle," Tim recounted to Mark Hodkinson in 'Queen - The Early
Years'. "He was lively and exciting, and ran on adrenalin. He was
always 'up'. Smile were enhanced by Roger's energy."
PROFESSIONAL
"We thought he was the best
drummer we had ever seen", Brian May has since said. "I
watched him tuning a snare - something I'd never seen done before - and
I remember thinking how professional he looked."
Coming together in the closing
months of 1968, Smile were keen to adopt the trappings of a proper band.
"A guy called Peter Abbey, a dental student from Roger's college,
became our manager," recalls Tim, "although really, it was
only a casual arrangement." Additionally, a school friend of
Brian's by the name of Pete Edmunds became the band's roadie, driving
them around in a green Thames Trader van, for which he'd traded in his
MG sports car. Using his design skills, Tim Staffell created a
distinctive grinning-mouth logo for the band, complete with pearly-white
teeth and crimson red lips, which has since been likened to the Rolling
Stones' lascivious tongue device, but has more in common with Dr.
Feelgood's leery trademark. When Smile sent a demo tape (contents
unknown, unfortunately) to the Beatles' new Apple label, the only
feedback they received was that Paul McCartney liked their logo.
Tim Staffell's Smile logo. the
original's long since lost, so key kindly re-drew it for RC in '95.
Brian May's connection at Imperial
ensured a steady supply of gigs for Smile, supporting name acts on the
burgeoning college circuit. The band also signed to the Rondo promotions
agency. "We dealt with a guy who was really plummy," recalls
Tim. "Rondo was in the same building in Kensington Church Court as
Juliana's Discotheques, which was a real up-market, toff's disco for
debs' coming-out parties. It's probably an oil company now. Rondo was
more involved with Genesis than they were with us; in fact, I once
designed a poster for Genesis: a really big illustration, printed on
lime-green fluorescent paper with 'rock'-style writing."
As a newly-chic power trio, Smile
played their inauspicious debut at Imperial on 26th October 1968, at
someone else's auspicious gig: opening for Pink Floyd, who'd recently
charted with "See Emily Play". Smile were billed as one of two
"supporting groups", and were somewhat taken aback by these
psychedelic pioneers. "They were strange," recalls Tim
Staffell. "That wasn't something I could easily relate to. They
were extremely English." like their predecessors 1984 and the
Reaction, Smile were essentially a covers band. They had few
compositions of their own, and were content to reconstruct existing
material to suit their own developing tastes.
Their music was "rather wild
and unpopular," reported Jim Jenkins and Jacky Gunn in Queen's
official biography, 'As It Began'. "They would play a cover version
of a popular song, using every change in tempo they could fit in. Often
songs would last as long as twenty minutes." Tim Staffell agrees:
"We used to like Yes, and the way they varied their tempos and
arranged their material. We also did a heavy piece by the Small Faces,
'Rolling' Over', which Brian rehashed on his 1992 solo album, 'Back To
The Light'.
VIRTUOSO
"I guess we wanted to be heavy
rock, but make music which was a little more arranged than you might
expect from a trio. There was pressure to try and appear virtuoso. But
actually, it was all form and little content. We had to make ourselves
appear, 'Wow! Cor, really clever, man!' Was I rudely awakened when I
moved on! I used a short-scale Danelectro six-string bass, which knowing
what I know now, I wouldn't have touched with a barge-pole."
At this stage Brian May, who'd long
since progressed from emulating Hank Marvin to apeing Jimi Hendrix, was
also entrenched in the nuances of the new music, enthusing in an
interview about the guitar 'tone' of Jethro Tull's Mick Abraham.
Presumably, then, Smile were 'progressive'? Tim Staffell is not so sure.
"That was more the Nice," he proffers. "I don't think we
would have applied that term to ourselves. Because 1984 had started at
school, that band was always going to be coloured with those school
characteristics. We saw ourselves as the antithesis of cool. In Smile,
we wanted to move on and be more grown up."
A brief history of Smile, as
advertised in the 'Melody Maker' and Truro's 'West Briton & Royal
Cornwall Gazette'. Clockwise from top left: their debut as an
unannounced support for Pink Floyd in October '68, through to Truro on
27th June '70, when they were already known as Queen.
Left:
July 1970, and the artists formerly known as Smile appear under a new
name in Truro.
Right:
see Freddie for 30p - as late as July 1971, Queen ads referred to the
old Smile name.
The Reaction's Mike Dudley kept in
touch with Roger Taylor after that band had split - for a while at least
- and saw Smile perform on numerous occasions. "They were
completely different from the Reaction," he recalls. "Brian
May was a far better guitarist than any of us, and they played fairly
good rock. They were a bit like early Fleetwood Mac with Peter Green,
and had a heavy Chuck Berry-derived sound. They also played Hendrix
tunes, along with a few of their own songs."
FORMULA
Whatever genre they slotted into,
Smile's musical formula proved to be successful, and they went on to
become a popular attraction at Imperial, eventually becoming the
college's house band. As far as Tim Staffell was concerned, though, the
musicians in Smile - himself at least - were still at the learning
stage. "Initially we were quite a loose trio," he claims.
"That was probably as a result of my bass playing. I wasn't as
disciplined as I should have been. When I look back, I was all over the
place."
Smile quickly became all-consuming
for the trio, and Brian May and Roger Taylor began to doubt their chosen
careers in astronomy and dentistry. At the end of 1968, Taylor dropped
out of college (he has since said that studying dentistry was merely
"a way to get to London"); although May continued his course
for the time being, and to this day maintains an interest in the
celestial world.
1969 brought a new face into the
Smile camp, a walking clothes horse and college friend of Tim's by the
name of Freddie Mercury. Freddie became a friend and supporter of the
band, offering his advice whenever it was - and sometimes when it wasn't
- needed, but he never actually performed with them publicly.
Eventually, though, after accompanying them to gigs in their Trader van,
he moved into Brian, Roger and Tim's shared flat in Ferry Road, Barnes,
South West London. As the story goes, Freddie was desperate to join
Smile at this stage, but had to be content to latch onto another trio,
Ibex - a group from Liverpool who swung into the Smile circle that year.
In 1984 and the Reaction, Brian and
Roger had been used to headlining their own gigs, albeit at a local
level. In London, however, and aside from Pink Floyd, all of their
documented appearances in the capital were as an opening act. Among
those committed to history are gigs with Tyrannosaurus Rex; the
yet-to-record Yes (or Yes!, as they were billed at the time) at the
Richmond Athletic Club in February '69; Family at Imperial on 15th March
(a good eight months before their breakthrough hit, "No Mule's
Fool"); and Mighty Baby, the psychedelic band formed from the ashes
of the George Martin-produced Action.
By far the most prestigious
appearance of 1969 was that Royal Albert Hall event Brian May referred
to earlier. Immediately prior to the concert, Smile had been rehearsing
with a fourth member, keyboardist Chris Smith, who attended Ealing
College with Tim Staffell. "He was a good bloke," recalls Tim.
"He had a pink Vox Continental organ - not a wonderful instrument.
But he wasn't a bad player, more boogie-woogie, a bit more
American-influenced - kind of in the Dr. John mould. If I'd have met him
later, I'd have appreciated his playing much more. We were more what you
might call Britrock these days. We fired him the night before we did the
Albert Hall. We were sitting in the back of the van going round a
roundabout somewhere and I had to say, 'Chris, we'd rather do tomorrow
night as a trio'. He's still around, up in Yorkshire somewhere. People
tell me he goes around feeling like the fifth Beatle. but that's my
prerogative."
With or without Smith, Smile saw the
Albert Hall gig as the zenith of their achievements to date (although
1984 had played the same venue a few years before). Their short set
included versions of "I I Were A Carpenter", "Mony Mony"
and "See What A Fool I've Been", plus Tim Staffell's
"Earth". The show, compered by DJ John Peel, wasn't recorded,
although Roger Taylor did invite along a friend of his, a photographer
by the name of Douglas Pudifoot. As well as shooting stills from the
right of the stage, Pudifoot also capture around three minutes of the
band's performance on a black-and-white, 8mm home movie.
The footage was silent and in far
from optimum quality, but nevertheless survives as the earliest moving
images of any of the members of Queen. Just over a minute's worth of the
film was included in the recent "Champions Of The World"
video, overdubbed with excerpts from "Step On Me" and
"April Lady" (complete with a scratchy 'surface noise' for
that added archive factor) from the "Gettin' Smile" mini
album.
Tim Staffell - the one member of
Smile not to make millions as part of Queen - has another reason to
recall the Albert Hall event: "I remember running out across the
stage and my lead was too short, and the opening chord of the first song
was minus my bass guitar. That has a strange irony about it, doesn't
it?"
With a ready-made network of
contacts back home in Cornwall, Roger Taylor also secured regular gigs
for Smile. Among those he sought out was Peter John Bawden, ex-guitarist
with Cornish band the Staggerlees (backing band for singer Dave Lee on
two singles for Oriole in 1963), who'd recently founded his own club,
PJ's, in Truro. The gigs were coming-home events for Taylor.
CAMARADERIE
"Those weekends in Cornwall
were highlights of our time with Smile, because everyone used to make so
much fuss of us there," Tim Staffell told Mark Hodkinson. "It
became a great social thing with lots of drinking sessions." the
camaraderie also extended to Mike Dudley, Roger's old friend from the
Reaction, who would often join the band on stage. "It was fairly
easy to play for a couple of hours after knowing each other for years
and years,' he recalls. But as Smile developed, eventually mutating into
Queen, Mike's guest spots dried up: "It happened for one or two
summers, and then the third it didn't."
Smile's adverts in the 'amusements'
section of Truro's 'West Briton and Royal Cornwall Gazette' from this
time were prone to London-style hyperbole: "Beautiful sounds once
again from Smile", promised one,; "The fantastic, beautiful
Smile," added another. Did these descriptions fit the band?
"Hardly", admits Tim Staffell. "That was probably
more to do with what was being smoked than anything else. Or probably
not. That was significant, you know. Smile wasn't a drug band at all.
I've no idea what happened in Queen, although I suspect the old nose
candy turned up a bit. That's not to say in Smile we didn't have the odd
smoke now and again, but compared with some of the things I got into
later on - you know, 'Can someone carry me out of the door, please' - it
was quite an innocent, clean-cut little outfit. If the drugs squad had
asked Brian to turn out the pockets of his cardigan, I can assure you
that they'd have found nothing."
While placed with the Rondo
agency in 1969, Tim Staffell designed this poster for Genesis.
Further advertiser's license took
place on 28th March 1969, when Smile played their debut at PJ's, billing
themselves as a "Tremendous London Group", who had
"appeared at top clubs, the Revolution and the Speakeasy and have
recently broadcast on Radio 1's 'Top Gear'." True enough, Smile had
played at the fashionable nightspots mentioned (and would continue to do
so), but on Radion1? It's difficult to imagine exactly what would have
been broadcast on 'Top Gear' in March 1969, given that Smile's debut
recording session was still one month away. Such an event would have
been important enough to have made at least a small impression on the
band's lead singer, but Tim Staffell suggests the ad was a ruse.
Although 26 years have passed since the alleged broadcast, 'Top Gear's
presenter, John Peel, is similarly adamant that it never took place.
"They didn't record a session, of that I'm certain," he says.
"But it's worth pointing out that in far flung corners of the
country, it wasn't uncommon for bands to make these claims." Just
to make sure, Peel checked his alphabetically-catalogued record
collection, in case a previously-undocumented Smile acetate had been
lurking there unnoticed for the last quarter of a century. The mystery
was solved. The trail ended at Smiley Culture, and no such disc exists
(at least in Peel's collection).
Douglas Pudifoot's photo of
Smile, pictured outside the Royal Albert Hall on 27th February 1969,
prior to their gig for the National Council for the Unmarried Mother and
Her Child.
Back in London, Smile were given a
break. On 19th April, they played another Speakeasy date (not the
Revolution, as has been reported elsewhere), only this time they were
introduced to Lou Reizner, A&R man for Mercury Records (Reizner
later went on to produce Rod Stewart and mastermind one of the '70s
Beatles tribute albums, "All This And World War II"). Reizner
liked what he heard and offered Smile a one-off single deal.
Smile found themselves now having to
transcend being simply a covers band - however much they re-invented
other artists' material. "It had become important to write your own
material," agrees Tim. "One summer, probably 1968, I made a
particular effort to write, and came up with two or three songs. 'Earth'
was one of them, and ended up accepted as being the strongest of the
bunch. There were no musical influences on that song at all. I wrote it
because I was a bit of a science fiction buff. In fact, all of the songs
I knocked up that summer - and most of them were cobblers - had science
fiction-based lyrics. They're the kind of things which would be
considered pretentious guff these days."
For the B-side, Smile chose one of
the few other originals in their repertoire, "Step On Me", -
one of Brian and Tim's first compositions, which dated back to their
1984 days (Indeed, a version appears on 1984's Thames TV tape).
"It's still a good song," reckons Tim. "The tune and most
of the words were written by Brian. I contributed to the words."
Both songs, plus a third, "Doin'
Alright", were cut in June 1969 at Trident, the Soho studio which
became synonymous with Queen's early years. The session was produced by
John Anthony, whose credits included Van Der Graaf Generator and Rare
Bird.
Only U.S. copies of the single were
pressed, and there's no evidence to suggest that
"Earth"/"Step On Me" was even intended for release
in the U.K. "It was Mercury America, which was independent from
Mercury in the U.K., who offered us the deal," remembers Tim,
"so the contract wasn't for Britain anyway." The publisher of
both songs was Shapiro Bernstein, another American company, but despite
these connections, Smile's debut release stalled at the promotional-copy
stage in August 1969. "Everybody hedged their bets," recounts
Tim. "The record company wasn't willing to commit themselves to it.
I don't recall the single being much of a big deal. None of us were over
the moon about it, because there was no money in it. Had there been, I
think we'd have thought that we'd cracked it. But we were aware that
that record was going to have to be hawked around before anyone got
behind it. And if a plugger did get on the case, it didn't generate much
interest."
There is reason to believe, however,
that some moves may have been made to push the song in Britain: at least
that's one conclusion to be drawn from the discovery earlier this year
of a double-sided acetate of "Earth"/"Step On Me" at
the London office of the now-defunct Shapiro Bernstein. As it turned
out, however, the U.S. promo copy was the only commercially-produced
recording of Smile, or indeed any of Freddie, Brian, John or Roger's
pre-fame bands.
BOOTLEGGED
It's worth repeating here that the
Smile single has been bootlegged on a 7" single credited to Iron
Wire (similarly, the Larry Lurex 45, "I Can Hear Music",
reappeared credited to Joe Perfect). And while we're on the subject:
Brian and Roger's Smile has no connection whatsoever with a group by the
same name who backed singer Denis Couldry on a couple of singles for
Decca in the late 60s; not the Smile who issued "One Night
Stand" on Uni in 1972, who were an American band.
Despite their lack of success on the
recording front, Smile were producing music worth listening to - at
least according to Ken Testi, the manager of Ibex. He recalled
spending an evening with them at a friend's flat, when, as he recounted
to Laura Jackson in 'Queen and I': "Suddenly Brian, Roger and Tim
began to play us their songs and talk about what they were looking for.
I knew immediately that I was in the presence of something
extraordinary. They were playing remarkable stuff, and Brian's technique
was outstanding. It was seminal Queen. They were special, and everyone
watching them in the flat knew it."
Mercury must have though the same,
and in September booked Smile into De Lane Lea in Kingsway, Holborn, to
record three more songs: "April Lady", "Blag" and
"Polar Bear", produced by Fritz Fryer, former lead guitarist
with 60s pop outfit the Four Pennies.
It may be very grainy, but it's
one of the only shots of Smile in action. Tim Staffell's toothy logos
adorn three of Roger Taylor's drums; the legend on the snare reads
"Don't forget to smile".
"De Lane Lea was a basement
studio and it was a very late session," recalls Tim. "I seem
to remember I was really shagged out. I believe there was a bloke called
Keith Nelson on that session who played electric banjo. I don't know if
there's any mention of him on the album cover, because I haven't got a
copy of the record, but I think he was an American who had built his own
instrument. It was a funny thing, and I remember thinking it didn't
sound much like a banjo, but there was an immediate rapport with Brian,
as regards the 'Red Special' - is that what they call it?"
Another murky but rare shot:
Smile at the Albert Hall in February 1969, snapped by Douglas Pudifoot.
Clips of his home movie of this show are in the "Champions Of The
World" video.
BALLAD
"April Lady was a ballad
written by one Stanley Lucas, which had been presented to Smile by
Mercury. "That was in 5/4 time, it was a bit clever," says Tim
Staffell. "We responded to tat, because we wanted to be seen to be
capable. It had pretty meaningless words, but I quite liked it."
Each member is clearly discernible on the recording: Tim Staffell on
lead vocals and bass, Brian on an acoustic and the guitar they do indeed
call the 'Red Special', and Roger Taylor on drums and backing vocals.
Interestingly for such an obscure
song, two other covers of "April Lady" exits, both issued in
the States as late as 1981. One is by a group called Wax, who recorded
for RCA, while the other, faster version by modern soul singer, James
Perry, appears on a new compilation "Carnival Of Soul" (Kent
CDKEND 124). Although on the evidence of Perry's version, Stanley Lucas
seems to have written two different songs with the same title.
"'Blag' was an instrumental
written by Roger", continues Tim. "It was a riff he'd had
lying around for ages and we eventually established it as a piece. I
think that always went down bloody well at gigs. It was a vehicle for us
to blow. There were some three-part vocal harmonies on it, which
supported the rhythmic figure. It was a bit of a blaster." It was
also the heaviest track Smile recorded, and with Tim's brief vocal
section in the middle - despite any protestations to the contrary -
anchored itself firmly in progressive waters. The track's
"do-do-do" refrain owed more than a passing reference to
Cream's "NSU", while Brian's proto-metal rifferama clearly
paved the way for heavy outings like "Liar" (on "Queen
1") while bristling with the kind of tension Freddie later utilised
on "Great King Rat."
"Brian wrote 'Polar Bear' and
sings lead on it", adds Tim. "That's one of those numbers
which I'd forgotten from that day to this. It was a gentle song
about...a polar bear. Hence the title! It was a bit out of character,
actually. I suppose, though, that in the sense that Smile wanted to be
dynamic, that meant we could be sensitive when called upon. But I'm not
sure I'd ever be able to pigeonhole that as being suitable."
Nothing from the De Lane Lea session
was released at the time, but did appear in mono on a mini-album called
"Gettin' Smile" (issued on 23rd September 1982, long after
Queen had become internationally famous) - and then only in Japan. The
mists of time had obscured the Smile era to such a degree, that the
label listed two of the songwriting credits as "unknown",
while initially, both Brian and Roger denied recording as many as six
tracks with the band. (Earlier this year, 'reproductions' of "Gettin'
Smile" appeared in the U.K. - on black and various-coloured vinyls.
Each sells for about £25).
"Does the title, 'Gettin'
Smile', have anything in common with the sort of English translations of
Yamaha keyboard manuals that we've all come to know and love?"
muses Tim. "You know, the kind of thing that goes: 'For the putting
of battery up the compartment, make surely to rotate when polarity come
to match required directions.' Because it doesn't make any sense to
me!"
JAPANESE
The three De Lane Lea songs were
augmented on the LP by "Step On Me", Earth" - or
"Earth It" as the Japanese called it ("That's a much
better title!" laughs Tim) - and the Staffell-May song, "Doin'
Alright".
"'Doin' Alright ended up
on the first Queen album (as "Doing All Right")" says
Tim. "It has never bowled me over as being a particularly brilliant
song, but it has got me out of a hole more than once. I've just paid
this quarter's tax bill on the latest royalties." Thanks to Roy
Thomas Baker's bombastic production, Queen's version of the song is
heavier than Smile's. But its complex structure, harmonic
arrangement and heavy-rock sensibility were obviously well in place on
"Gettin' Smile".
But perhaps the most striking aspect
of the Smile recordings is the vocal similarity between Tim Staffell and
his successor, Freddie Mercury. Freddie won hands down in the falsetto
stakes, but on "Doin' Alright" and "Step On Me"
particularly, the two vocalists were almost interchangeable. but
Staffell got there first. "My hackles rise at the suggestion that I
might have borrowed from Freddie," he told Mark Hodkinson. "I
was always very aware of what I was doing with my voice and how I
sang."
A U.K. EMIdisc acetate of Smile's
"Earth"/"Step On Me" was recently discovered at the
offices of the song's publishers, Shapiro Bernstein. This is the only
copy still though to exist.
Tim reflects: "I wasn't
surprised when that other material wasn't released. I can't answer for
Roger and Brian, but it wasn't really happening for me. We were
21-year-old guys, departing from our adolescence, becoming aware of
personal responsibilities, being exposed to more sophisticated things.
It was a gradual process of me going off heavy rock and getting into
much more disciplined songs. Queen did the same thing in a way, but from
an English perspective. Some of Queen's songs stand out as some of the
best English songs of all time. There's much more cultural integrity
with Queen, because you can't call them bloody American clones, like you
can with virtually everything I ever did after leaving Smile!"
Smile's final recording were
unofficial. In September 1969, after their second De Lane Lea session, a
mutual friend of Brian's introduced them to Terry Yeadon, who worked at
Pye in Marble Arch."I was actually a maintenance engineer,"
recalls Yeadon, "but we did whatever we could. The session took
place at around midnight at Pye's Studio 2, and lasted for about six
hours. We recorded 'Step On Me' and 'Polar Bear' on an Ampex four-track
machine: first the backing track, then the vocals, then we mixed it. I
was impressed by their sound. Roger might have been a little rough at
first, but Brian had a guitar sound identical to what he used in Queen.
A friend of mine, a cutting engineer called Geoff Calvar managed to cut
an acetate just before the morning shift started. About half-a-dozen
were done later, which we gave to the band." None of these,
unfortunately, has ever surfaced.
Yeadon rejected to work with Smile
more extensively, and saw nothing of them until 1973, when Brian May got
back in touch around the time Terry happened to be looking for a band to
test the new De Lane Lea Music Centre studio in Wembley. For his
efforts, Terry Yeadon received a mention in the credits on the group's
debut, self-titled album.
The next memorable event in Smile's
calendar took place on 13th December 1969, at the Marquee in Wardour
Street, when as a parting gesture, Mercury Records booked them as
support for a showcase for Nick Lowe's Kippington Lodge (who'd been
struggling to find a niche for the last couple of years and who, within
a month, would relaunch themselves as Brinsley Schwarz). Smile played a
30-minute set, but by all accounts failed to whip up much interest. The
concert obviously made no great impression on Tim Staffell, either.
"Kippington Lodge was where they all lived," he says. "I
remember that. It's a shame, but I can't recall anything about that
gig."
ZODIACAL LIGHT
The turn of the decade shed an all
too harsh light on Smile's shortcomings. Astronomical studies took up
much of Brian's time, and by February, he was spending weeks away from
the band researching zodiacal light in Tenerife. Losing enthusiasm, the
band began to peter out. "It understandably suffered from a lack of
finance, just as most student bands did at that time," Tim told
Laura Jackson. "But we'd played some notable gigs and supported
some very big names. We'd also had a good time doing it. I think I'd say
that at our worst, we may have been a little shaky, but at our best, I'm
sure we were quite worth the admission price."
Freddie Mercury finally got his wish
to join the band after his own outfits - Ibex, Wreckage and Sour Milk
Sea - ground to a halt. When the last of these acts disintegrated in
early 1970, he jumped at the chance to fill Staffell's shoes. "I
left Smile because I was beginning to be seduced by the way the
Americans made music," recounts Tim. "There is a radical
difference to the way English people do it. Around 1970, I bought one
album which completely changed my attitude towards music and that was Ry
Cooder's first album. That was a real catalyst. I suddenly decided
against English rock and the way it works." Speaking to Laura
Jackson, he added: "Whereas I left Smile for my own reasons, in one
sense I was moving out of the way, and the birth and evolution of Queen
were a natural outcome."
Captions (top): All Mercury
Records could muster on Smile's behalf in 1969 was this promo edition of
their one-and-only single, "Earth"/"Step On Me". And
this only saw the light of day in the States.
(bottom): A little goes a long
way: Smile's two sessions from 1969 comprised this 1982 Japanese
mini-LP.
While Freddie matched the power of
Tim's voice, he couldn't even attempt to follow his bass playing, and it
took two men to replace him. Mike Grose, a friend of Roger's from Truro
(no relation to the Reaction's Johnny Grose). became the second new
member of the band, and Queen's first bassist.
Don't be fooled by Iron Wire's
"Earth"/"Step On Me": it's a bootleg copy of the
Smile single.
Smile played their last gigs in
Roger's home town of Truro, and their mutation into Queen is documented
in adverts placed in the town's 'West Briton' newspaper. Although the
name-change had occurred a short while earlier, on 27th June 1970, at a
gig at the town's City Hall, they were billed - for the last time - as
Smile. On 25th July, at PJ's, they were advertised as "Queen
(formerly Smile)". Queen's London debut took place the weekend
before, at Imperial College, on the 12th.
"I went off looking for a band
which could make an American sound," muses Tim, "which turned
out to be Humpy Bong (named after the area of Australia where the
settlers landed in 1840). Via them, I met Jonathan Kelly, who was a
major influence on my life, both musically and intellectually."
Initially at least, the move proved wise. While Queen continued the
college circuit as Smile had done, "Humpy Bong got on 'Top Of The
Pops' with our first (and only) single, 'Don't You Be Too Long',"
recalls Tim. But after that: obscurity.
While Queen struggled on for the
next four years (their first his wasn't until March 1974), Tim Staffell
moved out of Humpy Bong, via Jonathan Kelly's Outside ("an
illustrious bunch of musicians - with Chas Jankel and Snowy
White"), and into progressive band Morgan, featuring ex-Love Affair
and future Mott the Hoople keyboardist, Morgan Fisher.
Smile's "Earth", written
by Tim, was later incorporated into a side-long suite on Morgan's
concept album, "Nova Solis". "The idea was that our star
exploded, the earth became incinerated and the remnants of the human
civilisation were scattered throughout the solar system without a
home", proffers Tim with more than a hint of irony in his voice.
These days, Staffell is a commercial
model maker, whose credits include the children's TV series 'Thomas The
Tank Engine'. But even a career-change couldn't distance him from his
former colleagues. "In 1981, after I'd packed in music
altogether," he recalls, "I made a model for an album cover
for the Hipgnosis design team. It was of a little alien head with
glowing eyes. I didn't know what it was for, but it turned out - and I
didn't discover this until years later - to be the front cover for
Roger's 'Fun In Space' album! I had no idea. That was peculiar."
Roger's "Future
Management" 45 and "Fun In Space" LP had unexpected links
with Smile.
An 'extra' for this site - in
glorious colour, the 'Fun in Space' album cover.!
Although they are no
longer close, Tim Staffell, Brian May and Roger Taylor remain in casual
contact. Tim even took part in a Smile reunion of sorts on 22nd December
1992, when Taylor's band the Cross played the Marquee. Tim joined Roger
and Brian on versions of "Earth" and "If I Were A
Carpenter" - two songs Smile had played at their most memorable
gig, at the Royal Albert Hall, back in 1969.
Thanks to Tim Staffell, Mike
Dudley, Terry Yeadon, Mark Hodkinson, Laura Jackson and John Peel.
Thanks also to Glenn Povey, David Wells and Barbara Byng for the
illustrations; and to Andy Halstead for advice on pricing. All
photographs are reproduced by kind permission of Queen Productions.
_________________________________________________
*Brian also featured on Tim
Staffell's 2003 album 'Amigo' on re-makes of the Smile songs 'Earth' and
'Doin'
Alright'*
from
THE RECORD PRODUCERS (from the Radio 1 Series) by John Tobler and Stuart
Grundy, BBC, 1982
(These
sections deal with Roy Thomas Baker's collaboration with Queen).
“…A
band was working there (De Lane Lea studio, Wembley) which included two
members of an old band called Smile, which had been produced by another
of my partners at Trident, John Anthony. John said why didn’t I go to
look at the new studio and check out the band as well, and I said I
would, although I was much more interested in the studio. The band had
done a deal with De Lane Lea to go in this new studio, play around with
the equipment, meet the engineers, see if the equipment and the acoustic
worked, and at the end of it, they could keep the tape. At that point,
the band were toying with the idea of calling themselves Queen…I
walked in and they were doing a demo of a song called “Keep Yourself
Alive”, and I said I thought it was fabulous and wonderful, a great
song, and totally forgot about looking at the studio. This band called
Queen – no record deal, nothing going for them at all, really, just
sitting there doing these demos, but the demos were great, twenty-four
track demos, and they were having a good time making them. I was very
impressed, and one thing led to another, and I managed to instigate
negotiations between them and Trident, with the idea of Trident signing
them.
If
you can understand the situation, the hierarch at Trident didn’t want
us to sign up bands, or to be producers, because they felt that Trident
would then be in competition with its clientele, but I said it
wouldn’t affect the clientele, because there was so much studio time
not being used. Nobody worked from ten in the morning until one in the
afternoon, and there was loads of time at four o’clock in the morning.
So finally they said, “OK, do an album”, and we did the album, the
first Queen album, in total down time, literally three hours from ten
a.m., coming back at four in the morning – it was horrible! But that
was how the first Queen album came together, and the start of my
relationship with them. What impressed me about Queen was the
combination of the depths of their melodies, and their use of guitars
and vocal, where they used vocals as an instrument – I’ve always
liked big vocals. They’d put vocals together and use them, all singing
harmonies together and things like that. That was one of the things that
impressed me, plus I liked the fact that they were very Bolshie, very
over the top and very aggressive. They also had their pent-up
frustrations in the same way I did – I had lots of production ideas,
they had lots of musical ideas, and they wanted to put their musical
ideas on record, while I wanted to the same with my production ideas.
Because we did the first album in down time, we weren’t able to get it
quite out of our systems, but when it came to the second album, things
like “Dance [sic] Of The Black Queen” have got every conceivable
musical and production technique involved in them. We just went over the
top with that album, and it’s a very good album – even today, it
sounds contemporary”.
Queen,
that group’s imaginatively titled first album, initially meant
absolutely nothing in Britain, although it made a brief American chart
showing. Subsequently. It has sold in sufficient quantities to be
declared gold and probably even platinum, but at the time of its
release, the alum was enormously under-valued. Queen II might
have met a similar fate had not a single taken from it, ‘Seven Seas Of
Rhye’, become a top ten hit during the spring of 1974. “One of the
minor gripes I have about England, and in fact one of the reasons that
forced me to move away from England – we’re sitting here now in Los
Angeles, and I could turn on the radio here, irrespective of whether or
not you like the format, and there are seventy-two main radio stations
in the greater Los Angeles are – is that you can’t have a hit in
England unless it’s played on Top Of The Pops.
I’ve never heard anything so stupid and ludicrous in my life –
forget about the material situation, just think about me being in a
studio with a band. We work for weeks and months to get an album which,
to us, is a piece of art. Now if people don’t like it, that’s fine
– they can actively hat it if they like, and I don’t mind that, but
what annoys me is if they don’t get the chance to hear it. One of the
reasons that the first Queen album was a hit over here but not in
England, was that over here the FM/rock stations played ‘Keep Yourself
Alive’ on the radio, and if the public liked it, they went out and
bought it, and if they didn’t like it, they didn’t buy it. I
wasn’t a hit in England basically because it wasn’t on Top Of
The Pops, and that’s the bottom line
to it”.
Despite
the lack of success of the first Queen album in domestic terms, its
American success spurred the group’s British record company to try
harder for Queen II. “EMI couldn’t think of anything better
than getting a hit with the second LP, because while they had Queen for
England and Europe, over here Queen are signed to Elektra Records, which
is a totally different record company. There’s a certain rivalry
between the two companies, wanting to outdo each other – “Queen’s
a hit in America, why not in Britain and Europe?” There’s always
that kind of struggle, which is healthy, so for the second LP, everyone
wanted a hit, and on the album is a track called ‘Seven Seas Of Rhye’,
and somehow, perhaps by accident, the chief promotion guy at EMI managed
to secure a spot on Top Of The Pops for that track when it was
released as a single, and they played, purely, I think, because someone
else had dropped out, so it was a rushed situation. I believe it sold in
Britain basically because it was on TV – over here, it was a hit
anyway.”
….
In
1975, with Sheer Heart Attack*, which was again produced by Roy,
Queen finally overcame all British prejudices and entered the first
division of bands in the United Kingdom, largely as a result of the
inclusion of what became their first top-three single, ‘Killer
Queen’. However, there were equally negative forces working against
both the band and Baker, according to the latter. “If you can imagine
what was going through our minds during that period, they were
frustrated musically and I was the same as far as production went, and
because the first album was done in down time, there was no real
opportunity to express ourselves on a big level, apart from just getting
the songs on tape. People didn’t like the second album at the time,
because they thought it was a bit over the top, which it was, because we
designed it to be over the top, and it had every conceivable production
idea that was available to us at the time. Machinery has now been
invented which would allow us to make that second album more easily if
we were doing it today, but if we hadn’t made that second album, lots
of machinery like some of the flangers and phasers and things that do
things backwards wouldn’t have been invented, so that record actually
set a trend. It was over the top, but every one of our musical and
production frustrations came out on that album, and the idea for the
third album was to get together and do some songs for a change, real
little short songs, like ‘Killer Queen’, and a few others, and it
was very successful on that level. We still used some production
techniques, but not to such a great extent – like the idea of phasing
or flanging the track of ‘Killer Queen’, say, which, if it had been
done a year earlier on Queen II, would probably have been phased
from beginning to end, but when we did it, it was just used on the words
“laser beam”, and that was the only part it was used on. The whole
idea of Sheer Heart Attack was purely for the guys to see whether
they could write nice short down to earth hit songs, which they did –
‘Killer Queen’ was a very, very, good track.
‘After
that album was released, the second Queen album went back into the
charts, so Sheer Heart Attack was in the top three, the second
Queen LP was in the charts, and then the first album went back in as
well. That didn’t just happen in England, it happened in a lot of
other countries as well, including America, so there we had three
records in the charts, and we were all really pleased and thought it was
fabulous. We thought it must mean we had become relatively successful
– and I was living in a council house, Freddie Mercury was living in a
two-roomed flat in Earls Court, Brian May was living in a basement
somewhere, and the owners of Trident were driving round in Rolls Royces.
Then John Deacon, the bass player, discovered that his wife was pregnant
and decided that he needed to buy a house, so he went to Trident and
asked for an advance of £4,000 to be able to buy this house, at a time
when Queen had three records in the charts in virtually every country in
the world, and Trident said they couldn’t let him have it, because
they didn’t have any money. That was good training for me, because
these were people who I’d really come to trust as my managers. That
was mainly what the problem was, and after that, it caused us, in our
entirety, to break away from the Trident situation. Queen wanted to seek
different management for themselves, and obviously, I had to do the same
– it was a strange coincidence that we both ended up with the same
management, which was John Reid, who was also managing Elton John, and
with Elton, Rocket Records. On a good day, John Reid is the best manager
in the business, and he did me the world of good – he was the one who
talked me into coming to America, and he set certain trends with Queen,
regardless of whether or not they don’t like him any more. If it
hadn’t been for him putting his foot down in places where feet
hadn’t been put before, I’m not sure whether they would have
survived to the point where they are now. Some would agree with that,
and some would disagree, but I know that he helped me a lot, and
deciding to be managed by him was one of the better moves I’ve made in
my life’.
In
fact, Baker didn’t leave Trident until shortly before the next Queen
album, A Night at the Opera, was due to be recorded. ‘I
didn’t finally leave Trident until an hour before we started that
fourth Queen LP. We were about to go to Rockfield to record it, and
Queen were sitting there enjoying the fact that they had tied up with
new management, and literally an hour before we started, I decided not
to stay with Trident, so I phoned them up and told them that I didn’t
want them to manage me any more. That was about the only time in my life
that I actually got a return phone call from them…So John Reid
Enterprises and his crowd took over my management, having taken over
Queen a week or two before’.
A
Night At The Opera
is arguably Queen’s best album, both from a commercial standpoint and
the fact that it is probably more familiar to a vast number of people
than any other album by the group, chiefly because it contains the
remarkable ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, a track which has to be regarded as
an epic by any standards. ‘By that time, all our frustrations had
finished, so we decided to do something that combined a lot of aspects
of Queen II and a lot of the aspects of Sheer Heart Attack.
The title of A Night At The Opera came about purely as a laugh – I
went to Freddie’s house one day, and he said he’d written this new
song, and sat at the piano and sang me bits of “Bohemian Rhapsody”.
Ten he said, “And this is where the opera section come”, and of
course, I just laughed, it was the funniest remark I’d ever heard in
my life. And everybody else just laughed when they heard that, but he
said, “It’s only going to be half-a-minute long, that section”.
The opera section ended up being hours of opera section – “Bohemian
Rhapsody” as a whole was seven minutes long – and it had all the
aspects of Queen II in it, the over-production techniques which
we had come to love, lots of vocals everywhere and guitars everywhere,
plus it was a good song and it had that amazing opera section in the
middle, which was really funny. But apart from all that, we came at one
point to a lull in the proceedings while we were making the album, and
there was some bickering going on in the studio about various things,
some technical things, so I suggested that we call a halt and go back to
the house I’d rented just up the road from Rockfield. I had a video
machine there, and one of the things I had on tape was A Night At The
Opera, the Marx Brothers film. Nobody wanted to come to my rented
house because they were all feeling miserable, but I said they should
come and we could watch the video and everyone could get drunk or
whatever, and I put on that film, which cheered everyone up because we
were all laughing at it. It was either Freddie or Roger Taylor who
suggested that we call the album A Night At The Opera, just as a
joke, but I said I like the idea, because it sounded very funny, and
that’s how that record got its name – a combination of the fact that
there was an opera section in the middle of “Bohemian Rhapsody”, and
all of us watching the film in one of those dull moments.
‘After
we finished “Bohemian Rhapsody”, there was a lot of internal
debating going on within the band, but the bottom line was that we all
wanted it to be released as a single. So we got hold of John Reid, who
came to the studio and litened to it and also thought it was great, and
agreed it should be the single – it is, after all, an enjoyable track
that everyone likes, and it has a lot of emotion in it. In its entirety,
it’s a staggering piece of work as one song. So we phone up the
English record company, and I told them we had a single for them, and
they were pleased. But then I told them it was seven minutes long, and
they said it wouldn’t get any airplay, that the BBC wouldn’t play it
because it was seven minutes long, they just wouldn’t play long
things. I’d already worked out in advance that they had played things
like “Eloise” and “MacArthur Park”, which were both long tracks,
and coincidentally about the same length as “Bohemian Rhapsody”, and
in the meantime, we’d got pally with Kenny Everett, who came over to
the studio one night, heard the track, and loved it. He asked if he
could play it, and we told him he couldn’t, half-joking and winking at
him. The next day was a Saturday, and he had a programme on both
Saturday and Sunday on Capital Radio in London, so he had a copy of the
record, and said on the air, “I’ve got the latest single here form
Queen, but they told me strictly not to play it – oh, my finger’s
slipped!” and he put the record on, played a bit and then took it off,
and then, “Oh, it’s slipped again!” He played it fourteen times
over that weekend on his programme. On the Monday morning, the kids were
going to record shops and asking for the latest Queen single, then we
got a phone call from EMI asking if we realized that we had totally
undermined their promotion and publicity departments. The only thing we
had to say was that EMI had reckoned that it wouldn’t get any airplay,
but Kenny had wanted to play it all the time, and we felt sure that if
the BBC had a copy that they’d want to play it all the time as well,
which was what happened, of course, and everybody was playing it. It was
obviously a hit, which then forced it to be released in America, because
people in America were buying it as an import. It was at number one in
Britain for six weeks over the Christmas period, and it made the top ten
in America – and it was a big record, for a seven minute pop single
with an opera section in the middle!”
Making
a track of such a lengthy duration and such complexity inevitably
expends large quantities of both money and time. “Well, it wasn’t al
recorded in one go. We did the whole of the first section and the rock
section, and for the middle part. We just hit some drums now and then,
after which it was basically edits – we just lengthened that middle
section depending on what vocals were put in, because Freddie would come
up with amazing ideas. He’d walk in and say “I’ve got some new
ideas for the vocals – we’ll stick some ‘Galileos’ in here”,
things like that, and the “Galileos” became identifiable. The middle
section got longer and longer, so we kept adding bits of blank tape to
it. But that track was recorded like this – the basic backing track
was done over a two-day period. The opera section was done over a
seven-day period of at least ten to twelve hourse because it was so
funny to do that that we were all in hysterics while it was being
recorded. Then there were all the guitar overdubs and getting on for two
days to mix it. I’d say that that track, on its own, took getting on
for three weeks, because it’s three songs merged together to make up
this one track. And it was very expensive as far as our end of things
was concerned, because the money was obviously coming out of our
resources, but there again, which was seven minutes long, and was three
weeks work on the A-side alone’.
Following
the enormous success of A Night At The Opera, Roy Thomas baker
and Queen drifted apart, no doubt sensing that each had exhausted the
other’s potential, at least for England to be able to actually see it
happen, although we had a video of all these naked ladies driving round
some stadiu sent othe time being – it certainly seems to be true that
any attempt to follow A Night At The Opera with something equally
grandiose might have been doomed to failure, and the group themselves,
assisted by engineer Mike Stone, produced their next two LPs. However,
by 1978, Roy and the group were working together again on an album
titled Jazz. ‘We got back together more for a laugh than
anything. Roger Taylor turned up to some session I was doing, and asked
if I was busy during the summer. I wasn’t, so hs said “Do you fancy
it?” and that’s how we got back together. We did it in Switzerland,
of all places, which was good – we were rehearsing at the time when
the studio we were working in was also recording the Montreux Jazz
Festival, and we managed to go to the Festival every night, which I
thoroughly enjoyed, and rehearse during the day. We started the album
off in Switzerland, and finished it in the South of France.
‘Freddie
had written this amazing song “Bicycles” (sic) which was very funny,
while Brian had written “Fat Bottomed Girls”, and, for better or
worse, we decided to put them out a s a double A-side. In the meantime,
when we were joking around, Freddie same up with this idea of getting
all these naked ladies riding round on bicycles. We all laughed – it
was one of those great ideas, but the only problem was that we were all
expatriates from England, and we all held registrations for living in
different countries, so none of us were able to go back to England to
actually see it happen, although we had a video of all these naked
ladies driving round some stadium sent over to us. That caused a bit of
a stir here in America, because the record was actually banned. America,
and especially middle America, is very staid in its censorship, and you
can’t show naked breasts on television and things like that, so the
record was actually banned from some department stores over here because
of the poster showing the naked girls. As far as the actual music goes,
I can’t remember much about it, except that we had a good time
recording it, and every night while we were in Switzerland, there was a
club on the corner next to the studio which had a rather amazing
stripper, so we had to stop the session at eleven o’clock every night,
watch the stripper, and then go back to record again’.
To
view the entire article, subscribe to read it here:
(Extract
from 'The Guitar Greats', John Tobler and Stuart Grundy, BBC 1983)
1980 saw a departure as far as Queen's records are
concerned in the shape of The Game. "We approached that from
a different angle, with the idea of ruthlessly pruning it down to a
coherent album rather than letting our flights of fancy lead us off into
different ideas. The impetus came very largely from Freddie, who said
that he thought we'd been diversifying so much that people didn't know
what we were about any more, so if there's a theme to the album, it's
rhythm and sparseness – never two notes played if one would do, which
is a hard discipline for us, because we tend to be quite over the top in
the way we work. So the whole thing has a very economical feel to it,
particularly 'Another One Bites The Dust', 'Crazy Little Thing Called
Love', 'Dragon Attack', 'Suicide' – a very sparse feel to all of them,
and for us, a very modern sounding album."
One new element in the recipe was an engineer/co-producer
simply known as Mack. "He had a great deal to do with the way the
album sounds. His name's Reinholdt Mack, and he's the greatest of the
unknown engineers, although he's now becoming known and quite rightly
so. He's done a lot of work for ELO, and worked with all sorts of people
like Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin, but he's been stuck there in Munich,
and nobody seems to have given him a thought that much – the typeface
used for his name was always rather small – so we thought that having
found him, we should make a big thing of him because he's really quite a
phenomenon.
One important aspect of The Game to longtime Queen
aficionados was that finally the group used synthesisers.
"Actually, they overflow from the Flash Gordon album,
because we were working on that at the same time. Roger's really the guy
who introduced us to synths, because he had this OBX which he was
playing around with, which obviously produced some good sounds, and
synths had advanced an awful long way since those early days. You can
now get polyphonic synths with a device for bending the notes which is
much closer to the feel of a guitar than ever before, so now we use the
synth, but sparingly, I think, particularly on The Game –
there's very little there, and what there is merely complements what
we'd used already, so there's no danger of the synth taking over, which
I would never allow to happen, although I'm much happier using them than
I used to be. I get a good feeling from playing the guitar which you
don't get with anything else – a feeling of power, and a type of
expression."
The Game
was a remarkably successful LP, spawning no less than four
top 20 singles in Britain, two of which Brian talked about in greater
depth. "'Crazy Little Thing Called Love' was very untypical playing
for me, and Mack actually persuaded me to use a Telecaster, which I'd
never used on record before, and a Boogie amplifier, which I'd never
have considered using. It's a very sparse record, and it was done with
Elvis Presley in mind, obviously – I thought that Freddie sounded a
bit like Elvis, but somebody's done a cover of it who sounds absolutely
like Elvis, and the whole record sounds like a Jordanaires/Elvis
recreation...A lot of people have used 'Another One Bites The Dust' as a
theme song – the Detroit Lions used it for their games, and they soon
began to lose, so they bit the dust soon afterwards, but it was a help
to the record – and there's been a few cover versions of various
kinds, notably 'Another One Rides The Bus', which is an extremely funny
record by a bloke called Mad Al or something*, in the States, and you
should hear it, because it's hilarious. We like people covering our
songs in any way, no matter what spirit it's done in, because it's great
to have anyone use your music as a base, a big compliment."
Flash Gordon
has already been mentioned, and was in fact an album of
soundtrack music to the 1980 science fiction film of that name, with the
music performed and written by Queen. "It was in our minds that we
would be up for writing a soundtrack if the right one came along. We'd
been offered a few, but most of them were where the film is written
around music, and that's been done to death – it's the cliché of
"movie star appears in movie about movie stars" – but this
one was different, in that it was a proper film and had a real story
which wasn't based around music, and we would be writing a film score in
the way anyone else writes a film score, which is basically background
music, but can obviously help the film if it's strong enough. That was
the attraction, because we thought that a rock group hadn't done that
kind of thing before, and it was an opportunity to write real film
music. So we were writing to a discipline for the first time ever, and
the only criterion for success was whether or not it worked with and
helped the film, and we weren't our own bosses for a change, which was
quite interesting."
The album contained a track which became a hit single,
'Flash', but rather more intriguing was 'The Wedding March', which
seemed to be in the vein of Jimi Hendrix playing 'Star Spangled Banner'
at Woodstock. "Things like that go back a long way with us – we
did 'God Save The Queen', the beginning part of 'Tie Your Mother Down',
and there's 'Procession' on the first album – those little guitar
pieces. I'd heard Hendrix's thing, but his approach was very different,
because he put down a line and then improvised another one around it,
and the whole thing works on the basis of things going in and out of
harmony more or less by accident – it's very much a free form
multi-tracking thing, whereas my stuff is totally arranged and planned,
and I treat it like you'd give a score to an orchestra. It lacks the
improvisation part, but it's a complete orchestration, so it's a
different kind of approach."
The major new Queen-related item in 1981, a year which also