QUEEN:& ANOTHER ONE BITES THE...UH, YOU KNOW
The answer is “We Are The Champions.” Does the question have something to do with spark plugs, Wheaties or Queen? Or does the question have something to do with “Who Cares???” Oh, yeah, the real question: “What was Queen’s first single in America?”
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QUEEN:& ANOTHER ONE BITES THE...UH, YOU KNOW
J. Kordosh
The answer is “We Are The Champions.” Does the question have something to do with spark plugs, Wheaties or Queen? Or does the question have something to do with “Who Cares???”
Oh, yeah, the real question: “What was Queen’s first single in America?” Feel better? Why??
These collective studies in studio pseudio have been sending out some of the weirdest signals since Doppler first doppled, and for over nine years now. Seriously, they’ve never once written a song that makes any sense on any level to anybody. Naturally, they’re enormously successful. Of course they are.
The main reason? Damned if I know. Could it be the vocals of Freddie Mercury, once described as “shrill?” Could be, although this is like calling the electric chair unpleasant. Maybe it’s their vocal arrangements, always referred to as “complex.” Either that or “boring.” Heck, maybe it’s just their fat sound. (You may recall that the cover sleeve of Jazz— with the hit non sequitur, “Fat Bottomed Girls,” met with opposition from some feminists. Or, maybe you’re like me and find it more intriguing to remember the weather forecast two nights ago.)
Well, one thing the fearsome foursome have never been short on is the celebration of the self. Unfortunately, it’s the celebration of their selves that preoccupies the enfants terrible. We will, we will... We’re the champions...Can’t anybody find me... you get the idea. These cats couldn’t stop sucking their thumbs (or something) under duress.
This is not to imply that they don’t have balls. This is to come right out and say that they don’t have balls. Hey, the “proud boast” on their record sleeves used to be: “No synthesizers.” Jesus, that’s playing hardball. Well, whaddaya gonna do with a rock group whose idea of a real putdown is “You’re a big disgrace?”
It’s probably instructive to know something about their history, but only so that we can avoid making the same mistake twice. They’re from England, which is not only natural—in their case, it’s practically mandatory. We just don’t grow Sunflower Boys like that here in the Wild West. And if you think Queen is a stupid name, get this: they used to be called Smile...Brian May and Roger Taylor started that bunch, before they met Freddie. That happened through Taylor, who was in business with Mr. Mercury, selling “antique clothes”! Christ, I’d embellish this story, but it’s too good as it stands.
Anyway, they got to make a demo tape in exchange for testing the acoustics of a London studio. Those studio people must’ve wondered if they had any acoustics left after Freddie frazzled their tweeters. Since demo tape leads to record contract leads to big mazuma, there’s the whole ugly story.
I guess it’s only fair to mention Brian “Yes, You” May, Queen’s rather inimitable guitarist. May’s style, which consists of loosening the stpngs until they’re as limp as you-know-what, has produced some rather unnatural soundwaves. One reviewer called him “flamboyant,” but he only had the boy part right. Another likened him to, holy moley, Jimmy Page! The guy’s not even Jimmy Paragraph!
Oh, yeah, they’re also a well-educated group: May’s got a degree in astronomy, maybe so he can figure out what planet he’s from; bassist John Deacon took a degree in electronics; and Taylor’s got a degree in biology for reasons much too funny to elaborate on.
To sum it up: Queen is the second-best group in the world. Everyone else is tied for first.
