November 24th marks the 30th anniversary of the passing of Freddie Mercury at the age of 45 on this day in 1991.
After
having been a rabid Queen fan in the late 1970s, by 1991, Queen were
pretty well off my musical radar and had been for some time. I hadn’t
bought one of their albums since The Game in 1980 and had since gone on a
musical journey which had taken me into the far flung outer reaches of
the most challenging and experimental music. Actually, by 1991, my
attention was coming off the tail end of the Acid House movement, which
had sprung up in 1988. In 1991, my interest was moving towards things
like Aphex Twin and the latest in UK electronica. It all seemed miles
away from Freddie, Brian, Roger and John.
I wasn’t completely
unaware of Queen during the ‘80s. Occasionally I’d see a video and even
find them amusing from time to time, especially the drag video for I
Want to Break Free, but I wasn’t following their career at all and was
oblivious to any of the rumors circulating about Freddie’s health. I
had no idea he’d been diagnosed with HIV, but neither did anyone else
until shortly before his death. There were only suspicious stories in
the media to stoke speculation, but I didn’t encounter any of that.
The
day the news broke, I remember I was hanging out at a friend’s place,
having a few beers and getting a bit wasted. We had the TV on just as a
news report showed the announcement that he’d died. I remember seeing
shots of Brian May being ushered to a car and I think Roger Taylor was
there too. It didn’t seem real to me, at first. Not having any inkling
anything was wrong, it all seemed to come out of the blue. I remember
feeling a weight in my stomach as I realized it was actually happening
and one of the icons of my youth had just been snuffed out. It didn’t
seem possible or real.
Soon enough, the news was out as to what
had taken him and the true tragedy and sadness of it all came into
focus. How could someone so vibrant, so brazen with LIFE not exist
anymore? Since then, I’ve watched as the mythology and legend has
continued to grow around him in ways that are reserved for a precious
few. He’s in the ranks of the “Godstar” now, a term coined by Genesis
P-Orridge for Brian Jones. It’s that echelon where celebrity meets
mythology and the dead become iconography for the masses. They become
something beyond human as their fame continues to grow beyond their
mortality. It’s the realm of Elvis, Marilyn, James Dean, John Lennon…
etc. It’s surprising to me in the sense that he died from a disease
that was so stigmatized at the time, the punishment for a life of sin,
according to some. It’s an end that would have buried the reputation of
most along with their corpse, but the impact of Mercury was too
significant to be snuffed out by the ignorance of prejudice and bigotry.
Now, his fabulousness is revered rather than scorned and I’m happy for
that.
Eventually, my musical tastes evolved to a point where I
could rediscover my love of Freddie’s music and embrace it again,
wholeheartedly. As that has unfolded, I’ve found myself reevaluating
things that I’d previously dismissed. Albums like Hot Space, which I
once considered the bottom of the Queen barrel, I now experience with
the intent that Freddie had hoped for. As he’d say, it’s only music and
a bit of fun, so why not try something new? He was always up for that,
and it’s what attracted me to Queen in the first place. Of course,
that appreciation only makes me feel melancholy thinking about all that
he didn’t get to do. He certainly put the effort into leaving as much
behind as he could. His final years were filled with him recording any
time he could, banking up material for the band to finish off as much as
he could, even as he struggled with the ravages of his illness. I just
wish he’d been able to go further. But I do think he’d be so utterly
tickled to see what his legacy has become and I know he’d be wallowing
in it with both feet, darling!
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