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RECORD COLLECTOR - JUNE 2002 Click picture for large image

Old Fashioned Lover Boy

Queen's first five albums are

studded with hidden gems

Jake Kennedy guides you through their pre-Jubilee catalogue TO trace the steps of a thousand music journalists and dredge up worn-in appraisals of Queen's well-established 'classics' would make for a dull read indeed. We all know practically every intricate facet of the jewels in Queen's collective populist crown, from their own Koh-I-Noor diamond ('Bohemian Rhapsody') to lesser brights like any one of their singles ('Somebody To Love', 'Killer Queen', 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love', the list goes on) right up to their esoteric doom-tinged 90s output. What always gets overlooked in the glare of these stadium-pleasing songs, however, is the creativity and occasional poignancy of lesser known album tracks. Certainly, Queen entered into a kind of critical wasteland with the advent of punk and the subsequent burning of rock's sacred cows that followed. But their first five albums exist in a sort of airlock that just about separates the music from the frequent lambasting that the later, more explicit material often suffers. Even the singles of old seem quaint by comparison to later offerings. It can't be denied that the band had gone interstellar by the time they played the London gigs at Earl's court to coincide with the real Queen's jubilee in June 1977. Perhaps a dissection of all their recordings up to that point would make more sense in the context of this issue, but this feature is about that vacuum-packed area of the band's work that somehow manages to maintain an air of hard graft. Touring the world and playing it you anthems may well be gruelling, but from their eponymous debut album to A Day At The Races it seemed that Queen really fought to earn any acclaim that came their way. They were as yet without the foundations of the more well-established tracks that would become ingrained in the popular psyche, and that would serve them well both financially and fanatically over the subsequent years. What comes across in the music prior to this 'golden age' is the feel of a good band becoming a phenomenally popular one, albeit to varying levels of critical acclaim. It's also worth remembering that Queen were at this stage more of a foursome than three men and a flamboyant frontman with an oddly macho moustache and an elusive sexual direction. This is reflected in the songs chosen for spotlighting here. Alongside the inevitable Mercury compositions sit tracks from the other members that should be regarded as 'greats', regardless of the personality behind them. In every sense, the songs here reflect a real band that still had as much to lose as they did to gain. Queen (July 1973) Single: Keep Yourself Alive (July '73)

But what about: The Night Comes Down, Liar, Great King Rat Great King Rat Many of the songs on Queen's first few albums could be considered over-long. A more sympathetic way of looking at them would be to consider them as epic. Whichever way you look at it, 'Great King Rat' falls into the category pretty snugly. Coming on like Spiritualized attempting martial folk-rock amid numerous welcome squeals of feedback from Brian May, it's something of an early incarnation of 'Brighton Rock', if you let your mind wander a little. The grand, regal aspect of Queen, albeit very tongue-in-cheek, has yet to surface, and we find an almost medieval bent in its place; particularly so in May's high guitar lines. Freddie Mercury's voice is deep throughout, resisting that falsetto that would soon become one of his trademarks, an the overall feel is one of brave competence. The band could amaze you with something double-barrelled and intricate, but for now they'll just lull you into a false sense of security. Then, at 2:37, the influences seem to bubble up,. Queen seem to turn into the Who (and not for the last time either), and later on, after the flamenco breakdown at 3:56, they move into more Caravan-esque territory. Regardless of whether or not the band would ever acknowledge the fact, the songs on this album rarely stay in one place long enough to stand up to accusations of plagiarism. A great example of this Roger Taylor's stunning, near octopodol use of his drum kit in the fade-out. It's superfluous, sure, but it adds another dimension. Liar If Queen ever stood in the dock, trying to deny charges of sounding a little bit, well, shall we say 'glam', then all the prosecution would need to do to send the foursome down for a long stretch would be play the opening few bars of 'Liar' to the court. Another monster-length track (6:25), it's essentially a T. Rex riff with extra clumping drums laid down behind. The hook is undeniably hip-shaking, and the beauty of this is that Freddie's religiously-tinged diatribe against self-doubt and merciless public recrimination is juxtaposed over the top. Hardly 'Ride A White Swan', is it? Perhaps it's a precursor to 'Now I'm Here'. All the signs are there. There's a great deal of theatrical and operatic experimentation on display, and particularly worth mentioning are the harmonies behind the lines, "leave me alone", which all add to the protagonists' sense of desperation at having his credulity questioned. The song is not without its flaws, though. Even on the most up-to-date equipment with the digital remasters, the solo at 2:30 sounds a tad buried in the mix, and the vocals too sound distorted, particularly at around 2:50. That said, it all adds a certain charm. It's good to know that these weren't works of precision and nor were they treated as such. 'Liar' especially is a rough diamond, with a suitably dubious subject matter. Shouting the title some 24 times throughout the song gives it an air of menace. The Rolling Stones section that begins at 4:19 certainly doesn't help matters. There are even traces of world music in the call-and-response vocals that follow, and by 4:57 Queen produce the direst riff they'd ever committed to tape - dirty enough even to pierce the relatively foggy production here. The Night Comes Down During the first minute alone of 'The Night Comes Down' enough things happen to make it worthy of discussion. Drums that sound like they could have been sampled from a David Axelrod-produced Electric Prunes track intertwine with a guitar line with which Johnny Marr would have been delighted. Even when May's more traditional sound lurches in, it's given a lazy twist, offering the listener the first chance on the album to actually take a breath - and it's the sixth track. This is all pretty full-on for a debut. The youthful nature of Freddie's voice sounds all the more delicate because of its exposed production, and also because he isn't really firing on all cylinders. This isn't a criticism; indeed, the trajectory of the counter melody, especially when in conjunction with the title line, is one of the most memorable parts of the track. John Deacon's bass run that hovers in the background for the duration comes into its own at 3:37, when the rest of the instrumentation seems to follow it, rather than the other way round. In these terms, the track almost turns itself inside out. At this point on the album the proceedings seem to succumb to the medieval again, with the listener half expecting to hear a lute or sackbut. For the ultimate in dramatics, and as something of a final doff of the cap, the band sequence 'The Night Comes Down' just before 'Modern Times Rock'n'Roll' leaving a tiny gap before we are again hit with the heavier side of Queen. It's extremely effective. Queen's Archivist Speaks....... Queen's debut was an album recorded entirely in downtime which, had it been afforded proper courtesy, would have emerged as an even greater accomplishment. Lyrically, both Freddie and Brian covered much ground in that formative era, all the while soaking up recording techniques which properly revealed themselves on Sheer Heart Attack and A Night At The Opera. It was a frantic period on all levels. Freddie's earliest forays into lyrics were ostensibly governed by biblical themes, art and literature, and while 'King Rat' falls into none of those categories, as such, it nevertheless retains a mystical and mythical feel. The song itself is rather more complicated than its subject matter. Multi-layered lead and harmony guitar and percussion are its mainstays, while Freddie's voice is distinctive and appropriately menacing. Recent remastering of this album for the Japanese market (by Justin Shirley Smith) has injected new sparkle. John's bass and Freddie's tambourine are startling, while Roger's drum sound emerges less crisply. On headphones, 'King Rat' is a true revelation. It remains a richly pleasing tale, confident, cleverly structured with a youthful Queen finding their feet - forced to hone their craft in less than ideal circumstances. 'Liar' has it all: an exceptional lead vocal performance, huge drums and guitars, and driving bass of which even the 22-yer-old John Deacon must have been proud. Like many of the band's elaborate undertakings, 'Liar' was recorded in several parts and painstakingly pieced together. There are few takes in the archive and those which have survived are only marginally different to the familiar cut. Nothing survives from the early demo period, or with alternative lyrics - which is more or less true of the whole album. What did emerge, during the research for the forthcoming Queen rarities collection was that 'Liar', without lead and backing vocals, is an extraordinarily different beast. This is true of most Queen material, but most noticeably here. There's a great deal going on behind which cannot properly be heard in the master mix, particularly in the regard of the lead and bass guitars - but then Deacon's innovative bass was always largely overlooked. An American single edit of 'Liar' (from 1975) really has to be heard to be believed. I generally refer to it as the 'Butchered Edit' so appalling are the seemingly random cuts which render it a scarred, disjointed and barely recognisable shadow of its former self. Failing that, there's always the 1991 Hollywood Records remix - some believe it to be a refreshing new slant, while many others regard it with all the fondness of a rabid dog. Queen never played 'The Night Comes Down' during their sets of the time - though the sentiment and context would have been ideal. At last we hear Deacon and Taylor in the middle section, although only fleetingly, without vocal accompaniment. Brian's lyric - one of losing his way, finding it again, deciphering the black from the white, and emerging from the dark - would become a re-emerging theme throughout both his Queen and solo work. Much of his best work pertains to the shadows and light of life, and here it all began. 'The Night Comes Down' may be simplistic, but shallow it is not. Greg Brooks. ---------- Queen II (March 1974) Single: Seven Seas Of Rhye (February '74) But what about: Father To Son, Nevermore, Funny How Love Is Father To Son After the arguably unnecessary pomp and circumstance of the mercifully short 'Procession' (the only real redeeming feature of which is an intriguing left-to-right channel harpsichord waver), another vast number from the band's infancy stamps its mark on Queen II's running order with characteristic flourish. 'Father To Son' has numerous memorable qualities, but top of the pile must be the vocal melody of the chorus. While 'childlike' might be too cutting a description, it certainly has that quality of sticking in the mind long after listening. The main, cut-up keyboard refrain, too, has a similar appeal, albeit one that again harks back to the Who. Other influences manifest themselves throughout the track. The many "ba-ba-bas" at the start of the third verse are about as close to Brian Wilson as Queen ever came, for example. Then the Queen we've come to know and love return, with a ferocious lick tucked under their collective arm. The demonic chord progression that begins at 2:38 and continues unchallenged until 3:15 is very close to the brand of rock that Spinal Tap lampooned, but it's still extremely enjoyable, almost knowing in its grandiosity. That said, from 3:30 the envelope is pushed further with an out-and-out solo frenzy, and it all becomes a bit of a haze. Brian May must have had a field day. You can smell the dry ice all the way through to the four-minute mark. Not content with drawing on just a couple of bands, at 4:55 'Father To Son' very nearly becomes 'All you Need Is Love', at points almost decomposing completely into a cappella, before being rescued by a slide guitar motif that segues neatly into the melodrama of 'White Queen'. Nevermore 'Nevermore' is easily the simplest song in this selection, but its inclusion is not purely on grounds of contrast with the other more studio-intensive material under the microscope. It's also by far the shortest, at just under one minute 20 seconds. Nowadays, of course, such length may not be considered strange, but in the context of even the Queen catalogue, it seems very much out of kilter when placed against the many six-minute experiment with which the band toyed. Basically just Freddie Mercury and piano, it's the '70s equivalent of Bell & Sebastian, albeit with grander designs on itself. But don't be fooled - at the core of the lyrical content lies the classic blues influence of heartbreak and being jilted at some point by a lover. Obviously, the band's dramatic wont takes it to another level entirely, off to the world of ogres and the like, but the relatively simple motivation for the song remains throughout. It's a luscious little number, which is probably heightened by the length - at points there are even traces of what sounds like Enya crooning away in the background. For all Queen's mythological idealism, 'Nevermore' stands out for its more human side, and is well worth remembering. Funny How Love Is In the starkest possible contrast to 'Nevermore'. 'Funny how Love Is' stamps all over Queen II like any of the other tracks' long lost sun-drenched cousins. It's virtually radiant in comparison with the moss-covered coves in which much of the LP sounds as though it could've been written. It kicks off with a compelling intermesh between iteself and 'Black Queen', in which the two blend seamlessly. The album's ample lyric sheet reveals itself to be a list of reasons behind exactly what the title says. It's hardly complex, but anything over-ambitious wouldn't have suited the feel of this Phil Spector-style wall of noise, and the lyrics are better off being at odds. The production behind the vocals seems to be aware of such points too, with Mercury's voice multi-tracked almost beyond recognition. On skits like these it's painfully obvious to what extent Queen were still very much four individuals. On 'Loser In The End', for instance, a Taylor composition, the drums are at the forefront, almost as to make the track a dub workout. Here Mercury is at the helm, and vocals are very much the order of the day. There seem to be thousands of Freddie's enthusing all over the place. Thankfully, a track such as this, where operatics are given the rock treatment in the fullest sense, requires exactly that kind of approach. Queen's Archivist Speaks... 'Father To Son' is utterly enthralling. It's a very 'Freddie' track, despite being a May composition. Mercury injects into it a quality that compels you to listen and take in every word. On stage too, this as a stand-out piece providing Freddie with both a story to tell and the opportunity to gesticulate. In Queen's tape archive of this song there are probably six or eight tracks featuring just guitars, along with numerous drum and percussion tracks, and guitar harmonies and kit work indicative of a band well on the road to mastering their craft. There is much rehearsal and live work, lots of 3.00 a.m. sessions, and many bridges crossed. Joyful the sound. And yes, it's true about the dry ice. Be aware, I am Queen's archivist. I have heard every song ever released and all the bits and pieces unreleased - many times, and everything in between. Queen II is the work which moves and stuns me more than any other. It is diverse, powerful, compelling and so utterly breathtaking on innumerable levels. Surely it cannot be the work of four musicians in their early to mid-20s. The medley on 'Side Black' comprises 'The Fairy Felle'rs Master Stroke', 'Nevermore', 'The March Of The Black Queen' and 'Funny How Love Is' and it is the most impressive 13 minutes I have ever encountered on record. Before I die, I'm determined to hear this section recorded in 5.1 surround sound, and, like A Night At The Opera I will be astounded all over again. 'Nevermore' is perhaps Freddie's Mercury's very best ballad. It never got better, for me, than Freddie and piano, and his understated lyrics. Again, the recent remastered CDs for Japan endorsed just how lovley this recording is. Everything is right about this track. Nothing is superfluous. The vocal harmonies are stunning, and 'The Black Queen' which follows comes over as all the more dramatic for this delicate little prelude. It was performed live only very rarely, but it was revisited in 1974 for a BBC session - which is likely to emerge on the proposed early years box set. Little is documented about the recording of this song, and neither did Freddie mention it in interview. There are minimal out-takes in the archive and all early efforts, like most then, were recorded over in order to save tape and money. The song seemed to slip by unnoticed at the time in preference to others on Queen II. 'Funny How Love Is', the closing track of the aforementioned Side 2 medley, continued, more or less, from where the 1973 Freddie Mercury/Larry Lurex spoof single left off. There, Freddie and producer Robin Geoffrey Cable embarked upon a quest to achieve a Phil Spector-esque production with covers of 'I Can Hear Music' and 'Goin' Back', and achieve it they did - remarkably well, as it happens (check out the Freddie Mercury solo box of 2000). Penned by Freddie, 'Funny' is at once a complex and apparently straightforward recording. But, of course, nothing at that time - 1974 at Trident Studios, with Roy Thomas Baker co-producing and the esteemed Mike Stone engineering - was ever straightforward. There is more to this song than meets the eye or ear; barely audible guitars where there really ought to have been vocals, and a similarly elusive bass line. Archive representation of this track is thin on the ground, too. The various surviving pieces offer nothing very significant and remain close in all respects to the album version. This song will also benefit hugely from the 5.1 treatment, if Queen II is ever earmarked. Greg Brooks.