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Brian in the Radio Times - Dec 04   

Some comments about Brian's Interview:

A work colleague was once commenting on Brian’s many talents – having a doctorate, 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. 

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 Queen on Tour: The Name   18 Dec 04

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.

 

Picture: www.queenzone.com                                                                                                     

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 11 June 05 

The 'boss' has a new title! 

Congratulations, 'Commander' Bri!

See 'My New Title' - here.

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For item about Freddie's Childhood Friend, click here .

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18 Aug 05

Roger: 'Classic Rock', ‘Rhythm’ magazines, and ‘Top Gear’ (TV)

 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:

http://www.roger-taylor.net/Scans/RhythmAugust2005No1.jpg

 http://www.roger-taylor.net/Scans/RhythmAugust2005No2.jpg

 http://www.roger-taylor.net/Scans/RhythmAugust2005No3.jpg

 http://www.roger-taylor.net/Scans/RhythmAugust2005No4.jpg

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)

 

pictures: www.freewebs.com/roger_taylor

 

*More details to appear here.

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The Early Days

 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':

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The Smile Logo - from Ghost of a Smile:

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.

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*Brian also featured on Tim Staffell's 2003 album  'Amigo' on re-makes of the Smile songs 'Earth' and 'Doin' Alright'*

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I'd remembered the 1976 song 'Man from Manhattan' from my teens - it received a lot of airplay on Capital Radio. In early 2006 found the original '45 I'd had! This article is from 'Record Collector', no. 188, April 1995. It appears to contain a contradiction about the time of recording - the same time as 'A Night at the Opera' as it is mentioned that 'Bohemian Rhapsody had already been a hit:

EDDIE HOWELL

 ANDY DAVIS MEETS THE MAN FROM MANHATTAN

 Eddie Howell’s “Man from Manhattan” is one of the best known and best loved of all Queen’s collaborations. Recorded in August 1975, during Queen’s “A Night At The Opera” sessions at the Sarm East Studio in London, the song is so reminiscent of that album in both instrumentation and mood, that many fans regard it as virtually an “Opera” outtake. When it was issued as a single in 1976, “Manhattan” became a turntable hit in the U.K., and looked set to chart until music industry bureaucracy halted it in its tracks.

The single has been unavailable now for nearly twenty years, but to satisfy collectors’ demand, Birmingham-born Howell recently formed his own Bud label to reissue “The Man from Manhattan”, both as a CD single and as a bonus track on his “Gramophone Record” album (now re-titled “The Man from Manhattan”).

 The teenage Eddie Howell began his professional career in the late Sixties, when Chrysalis Publishing picked up on his songwriting demos and introduced him to an independent producer, who in turn licensed his first single “Easy Street”, as a one-off deal to Parlophone in 1969.

 Working as a songwriter throughout the early 70s, Eddie’s next stab at stardom didn’t come until 1975, when he signed to Warner Brothers as an artist. He issued two singles, “I Can’t Get Over You” and “Long Story”, and his debut LP, “Eddie Howell’s Gramophone Record”, which featured members of Brand X (including Phil Collins) and guitarist Gary Moore. The album was launched at a promotional gig at the Thursday Club in Kensington. In the audience that night was Freddie Mercury.

“Freddie and Queen were managed by John Reid, who was friendly with my manger, David Minns,” explains Eddie. “Through John Reid, David met Freddie, and brought him down to see me play. It was there that Fred hear ‘Man from Manhattan’ which I’d only just written – it wasn’t even on the album. He came up afterwards and said he really liked the song. He kept going on about it, in fact, and asked if he could produce it for me. Queen were huge at the time, having already had a massive NO. 1 with ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, so, of course, I said ‘Yeah!’.”

 Enthused by the prospect of his first foray into production, Mercury wasted little time in getting started. “I gave Fred an acoustic four-track demo of the song”, recalls Eddie,, “and a couple of days later, he called and said, let’s get going. I was impressed by the fact that he already knew the song inside out. That was obvious the first time he played it through on the piano. He’d go the feel right, it was absolutely perfect.”

 The finished article, on which Mercury played piano and Brian May guitar, might be a deadringer for any number of tracks from “A Night At The Opera” album, but “Man from Manhattan” was far from a tribute to Queen. “I wrote the song after a trip to New York,” reveals Eddie, “where I’d read ‘The Godfather Papers’, a book about the Mafia by Mario Puzo. My man from Manhattan was supposed to be one of those characters, leading a double life.

 “Musically, the catalyst was the Kinks’ ‘Dead End Street’, he continues. “I attempted to take the down-and-out from that song, dress him up, and take him to Manhattan with trombones, gangsters, smoke and sleaze. But Freddie and Brian turned it into a very Queen-sounding record, which wasn’t quite what I had envisaged! It was great, but I did make a conscious effort not to include John Deacon and Roger Taylor. They would have played on it, but I wanted the song to retain some of my own identity!”

 True to form, Freddie quickly took control of the sessions: “He did a lot of pre-production work on the song’s structure and the harmony arrangements,” reveals Ed. “I was really impressed by the way he wrote out his harmony parts. It was like maths. He’d sit there with a piece of paper and write, F-shar, G, A. His handwritten script would go up on the paper as the harmonies went up, and fall as they came down.”

Freddie knew what he wanted from the track and wouldn’t stop until he got it. “We took a weeks to record that one song, which was quite a long time in those days.” Remembers Eddie, “and it cost quite a lot of money – Warner Bros gave us a blank cheque! The sessions were quite intense, there was never a lull. It we couldn’t get something right fairly quickly and spontaneously, Fred would adjourn the session. He had a generosity of spirit, but he was a little volatile underneath.” Nevertheless, Howell has fond memories of his producer: “I was lucky to see the person behind the big star,” he says. “The only visible difference between Freddie and the rest of us was that we’d all come into the studio in our street clothes and he’d come in flamboyant and dapper, ready to go on stage!”

  When the single was released, Warner’s publicity department played up the Queen connection as much as they could, and the record received heavy rotation on the airwaves – particularly in Europe, where it became a bit hit. Then, just when it look as though it might chart in the U.K., the Musicians’ Union announced that Jerome Rimson, the American bassist on the record, had been working in Britain without a permit. This obliged them to place a ban on any further media exposure for his illegally-recorded playing, a decision which effectively killed off the record. Much to the disappointment of Eddie Howell, nothing more was heard of “Man from Manhattan” or its creator.

Eddie continues to work as a performer and as a songwriter: ex-Abba star Frida recorded a version of his “Come To Me”, co-written with songwriter David Dundas; in 1980, Page 3 model Samantha Fox recorded his “Baby, I’m Lost For Words” on her debut album, which went on to sell three-and-a half-million copies; and in 1982, Eddie;s “Jezebel” was covered by New Zealander, John Stephens, and became that country’s longest ever No. 1 single by a local artist.

Not the least of Eddie Howell’s achievements, however, is the newly-reissued “Man From Manhattan” album, which with its diverse mixture of rockers, ballads and burlesque cameos, uncannily recreates the spirit of “A Night At The Opera” and “A Day At The Races”. It is a must for any fan of Queen. 

 

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ROY THOMAS BAKER 

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’.

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http://www.rocksbackpages.com/article.html?ArticleID=6391

 

   

For the John Deacon 'On the Bass Line' feature, click here.

 

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Another contribution from me to Ale's site - this time from 1976 for the 1977 TOTP annual:

http://www.queencuttings.com/dblog/articolo.asp?articolo=315

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Brian talks about early 80s material

(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