QUEEN - INNUENDO @ 30

 

February 4th marks the 30th anniversary of Queen's final studio album completed before the passing of Freddie Mercury, released on this day in 1991. While the band would cobble together one more album to feature their late front man from unfinished sessions recorded prior to his death, Innuendo was the final album to be totally completed with Freddie's full participation.

Back in 1991, I was about as far away from my Queen fandom days as I could get. It was a time of Acid House and Techno, and Queen, for me, was a relic of my high school days and I hadn't listened to them for years. As such, the news of Mercury's death in November of 1991 came completely out of the blue. I hadn't payed any attention to the band's career in some time, so I had no idea about the rumors of his ill health or the cause of it. Suddenly I was seeing Brian, Roger and John on the news attending funeral services and it didn't seem quite real. It felt like a part of my youth had suddenly been ripped away. Though I wasn't listening to their music, I was struck with a sharp recognition of the loss that had occurred.

It would be years later when I'd start to reconnect with Queen's music. As the 21st century dawned, my musical tastes matured and expanded and I began the process of reassessing the music I'd loved in my past and why I loved it. It wasn't long before I rediscovered Queen and developed a fresh appreciation for their achievements and talents. However, that newfound admiration didn't initially extend to the music that was produced after my initial fandom had faded. I stuck close to their 1970s albums and my interest dropped off after The Game.

It's only in the last few years, maybe the last 5 or so, that I've begun to warm to some of their albums of the 1980s up to their swansong of Made In Heaven. Albums like Hot Space, which I initially looked upon as a joke, now find keen favor in my listening habits and even just the other day, as I put on Innuendo in anticipation of its anniversary, I found myself taken aback as I heard aspects of it that had never struck me before.

Listening to this album now, I'm first struck the the strength of Freddie's singing. There was only one point where I detected only a minor weakness in it and only for a split second. The fact that Freddie chose to belt out so many heavy rockers rather than take it easy with less demanding soft ballads speaks to his dedication. The man knew for some years that he was on borrowed time. He could have chosen to spend that time doing any number of things, but he chose to focus on the work. All he wanted to do was leave as much behind as possible. He insisted that the rest of the band help him plow through these years, giving him as many songs to sing as they could. It was an Olympian effort as there were days he could barely get out of bed. Yet he'd get to the studio whenever he could and just belt it out like nothing was wrong.

You can hear that determination in these song, but not the strain. He sounds confident and powerful and capable and you'd never know he was spiraling down into his own mortal coil. Seeing the videos from this album is a shocking revelation of that disparity. On screen, you can see the frailty and the fading of his visage. The most heartbreaking of all is the video for These Are the Days of Our Lives. I can't watch it without getting choked up. You can see he's saying goodbye and you can see how much love he had for his audience. Despite his obviously compromised physical presence, his dignity and joy are resonant and you know the only thing he's regretting is that it's too soon to go.

There's a lot of good music on this album in the end. It rocks surprisingly harder than a lot of their albums from this era. How he managed to muster up the energy to do that is a bit of the magic that made him who he was. It's a good way to go out, I think.