Queens’ Tragic Rhapsody
Theatrical, brilliant, excessive and doomed – there had never been another band like Queen or a frontman like Freddie Mercury
Queen begins and ends with Freddie MerÂcury. He embodied the band’s identity, its triÂumphs and failings, and he was the psyche whose loss it couldn’t survive. But in the beginning, there was no Freddie Mercury.
He was Farrokh Bulsara, born on SepÂtember 9th, 1946, in the British protectorÂate of Zanzibar, off the east coast of Africa to a Parsee family that practiced ZoroastriÂanism, one of the world’s oldest monotheisÂtic religions. Farrokh’s father, Bomi, was a high-court cashier for the British governÂment, which meant that he, his wife, Jer, and Farrokh ”“ and later Farrokh’s sister, Kashmira ”“ lived in cultural privilege, comÂpared to much of the island’s population. In 1954, when Farrokh was eight, the BulÂsaras sent him to St. Peter’s Church of EngÂland School, in Panchgani, India. Located 150 miles from Bombay (now Mumbai), St. Peter’s had been regarded for years as the best boys boarding school in that part of the world. Farrokh arrived as a terribly shy boy, self-conscious about the prominent upper teeth that immediately earned him the nickname “Bucky.” (He would remain senÂsitive about his teeth the rest of his life, covÂering his mouth with his hand whenever he smiled. At the same time, he realized that the pronounced overbite ”“ caused by four extra teeth at the back of his mouth ”“ may have been his greatest blessing, giving his voice its distinctive resonant embouchure.)
Many remembered Farrokh seeming lonesome at St. Peter’s. “I learnt to look after myself,” he said years later, “and I grew up quickly.” When some schoolteachers began calling him Freddie as an affectionate term, he seized the name instantly. He also cultiÂvated his own tastes. Freddie’s family had steeped him in opera, but he was also develÂoping a love for Western pop sounds ”“ espeÂcially the boisterous piano-based rock & roll of Little Richard and the virtuosic R&B of Fats Domino. After Freddie’s aunt Sheroo noted that he could hear a tune once, then sit down at the piano and play it, his parents paid for a private music tuition. In 1958, he formed a band, the Hectics, with some other St. Peter’s students. In Freddie MerÂcury: The Definitive Biography, a student at a neighboring girls school, Gita Choksi, said that when he was onstage, Freddie was no longer a shy boy: “He was quite the flamÂboyant performer,” she said, “and he was abÂsolutely in his element onstage.”
Some students at St. Peter’s believed FarÂrokh had a crush on Gita, but she said she was never aware of it. Others thought it was already plain Farrokh was gay, though there is little evidence of him being sexually acÂtive. Janet Smith, now a teacher at the girls school, remembered him as “an extremely thin, intense boy, who had this habit of callÂing one ”˜darling,’ which I must say seemed a little fey. It simply wasn’t something boys did in those days . . . . It was accepted that Freddie was homosexual when he was here. Normally it would have been ”˜Oh, God, you know, it’s just ghastly.’ But with Freddie somehow it wasn’t. It was OK.”
In 1963, Freddie returned to Zanzibar and his family. British colonial rule ended that same year; then, in 1964, the island erupted in revolution and slaughters, and the Bulsaras fled to Feltham, Middlesex, in England, near London. The weather was rough and the income not as good, and Freddie began changing in ways they didn’t get. “I was quite rebellious, and my parents hated it,” he told Rolling Stone in 1981. “I grew out of living at home at an early age. But I just wanted the best. I wanted to be my own boss.”
Whatever he had left behind in ZanziÂbar and Bombay, Freddie Bulsara would never claim it as a past that he was willing to talk about. He was just in time for the era of Swinging London, the time of the BeaÂtles and the Rolling Stones. Life was openÂing up for him, and he intended to revel in every moment of its future.
Like Bulsara, the two other men who initiated Queen, Brian May and Roger Taylor, were atÂtending London collegÂes in the late 1960s. May was tall, lean, soft-spoÂken, erudite and developing into a visionary guitarist. What most informed his sensibilÂities, he later said, was the range of harmoÂny-steeped music he had been hearing since the 1950s: the vocal blends of Buddy Holly and the Crickets, the layered strings of popÂular Italian concertmaster Mantovani and then, in the 1960s, the innovative methÂods of the Beatles. In late 1963, May and his father built him an electric guitar with mahogany parts taken from a fireplace. (Known as the Red Special, it is the guitar that May still plays.) May and a friend, bassÂist Tim Staffell, were playing in a cover band called 1984 when both started college caÂreers in the mid-Sixties. May attended ImÂperial College, studying math, physics and astronomy; in 1968, he and Staffell startÂed a new band, Smile, which would be closÂer to the fierce improvisational spirit then gaining ground in British rock being made by Cream and others. They posted a note on an Imperial College bulletin board, seekÂing a drummer who could play like Ginger Baker and Mitch Mitchell. Taylor, who was studying, answered the ad. Taylor was pretÂty-faced, a bit rowdy, and could play what Smile was looking for, though he was closÂer to the spacious style of the Who’s Keith Moon, and, like Moon, he had an instinctive sense of tonality. “I remember being flabberÂgasted when Roger set his kit up at ImperiÂal College,” May told Mojo in 1999. “Just the sound of him tuning his drums was better than I’d heard from anyone before.” Smile’s trio were now in place.
Staffell also shared musical interests with Freddie Bulsara, who by then was attendÂing Ealing College of Art, where both were students. By this point, Bulsara was less reserved. He had long hair, was exoticalÂly handsome, even dangerous-looking, and had a sinuous way of moving. Staffell took Bulsara to meet Taylor and May in early 1969. Bulsara struck them as a little pecuÂliar ”“ he painted his fingernails black, he could be effeminate ”“ but he was endearÂing. He could also be imperious. “At that stage,” said May, “he’s just kind of an enthuÂsiast. He says, ”˜This is really good ”“ it’s great how . . . you’re aware of building up atmoÂspheres and bringing them down. But you’re not dressing right, you’re not addressing the audience properly. There’s always opportuÂnity to connect.’ ”