Brian's Letter, From The Winter 1991 Edition Of The Queen Fanclub Magazine.

Q Magazine - December, 1988

Credits to Louise Belle and Queencuttings.com

BRAVO, SIR FREDERICK!

[Photo caption: (Above and right) Fredcie and his diva. Montserrat Caballe, disport before the good talk of Barcelona: "It’s so ridiculous when you think about it — her and me together. But if we have something musically together it doesn't matter what we look like se where we come from.”

[Photo caption: (Above and right) Fredcie and his diva. Montserrat Caballe, disport before the good talk of Barcelona: "It’s so ridiculous when you think about it — her and me together. But if we have something musically together it doesn't matter what we look like se where we come from.”

[Photo caption: (Above and right) Fredcie and his diva. Montserrat Caballe, disport before the good talk of Barcelona: "It’s so ridiculous when you think about it — her and me together. But if we have something musically together it doesn't matter what we look like se where we come from.”

(Below) The site of the concert — Barcelona's Avinguda De Maria Cristina, a huge fountain-lined road equivalent in size and position to The Mall in London.]

[Photo caption: "I don't know how Queen fans will react to this. I'll have to find out. It is a bit of a thingy — you can't put it under a label, can you? The worst thing they can call it is 'rock opera', which is so boring actually.”]

Fountains tinkle. Fireworks cascade in the warm Spanish sky. And 40,000 people eagerly await a mimed operatic spectacle involving a besequinned diva and the lead singer of Queen. Freddie Mercury is about to explain his latest musical indulgence. Adrian Deevoy is granted an audience.

Never having been one to opt for the outrageous when the downright preposterous will do, Freddie Mercury concludes his operatie concert by attempting to blow up Barcelona with fireworks. It is unanimously proclaimed to be the most awesome pyrotechnic display this side of the four-minute warning.

The pungent aftermath of the apocalyptic finale is hanging heavy in the still night air. So dense, in fact, is the smog that the small band of British journalists walking nonchalantly into the backstage area can hardly see the Spanish policeman's hand in front of their faces.

"No press, " he says flatly.

It's OK, we explain showing him assorted press […]

[Photo caption: Sir Frederick meets The King and Queen of Spain at a reception for La Nit, the concert to celebratethe start of preparations for the Olympic Games in Barcelona in 1992.]

[…]

cards and passes, we are guests of honour of this extravaganza.

"No press," he repeats eyeing the identification contemptuously.

You don't understand, we persist, we have flown from England to witness this spectacular event and now we are going to meet Mr Mercury.

He exhales slowly, unfastens the flap on his holster and curls his hand around the butt of his government-issue revolver.

"No press," he says, with the air of a man winning a particularly effortless chess match.

This is the first indication that despite impressions to the contrary, sitting down for a heart-to-heart with Freddie

Mercury will be considerably more troublesome than anyone had envisaged.

We wander into the bustling city centre feeling confused and a little wounded, although admittedly not quite as wounded as we could have been. What we had told the policeman had, quite remarkably for the British press, been true. Freddie Mercury had paid for us to come Barcelona to see this, his first bona fide live appearance for two years. He was, we were told, attempting to bring opera to the people. Hence he had found himself a diva in the amply proportioned Spanish opera singer Montserrat Caballé, had a hit single — Barcelona — and recorded an album of the same name. Now he was holding a concert. And if we were very lucky he might just talk about it.

Originally Freddie had intended to forego the concert and instead throw a party to end all parties to which all his "friends" from the press would be invited. He promised fire-eaters, dancing bears, unicycling waiters, bearded women juggling live dwarves, that sort of thing. But in the restless tradition of true genius, he became bored with this idea before they had even auditioned the first hopeful midget. Instead, he decided, he would treat us and 40,000 others to the finest and most diverse concert he could muster. It would combine his much-loved opera with rock'n'roll, ballet, gospel, pop, classical, reggae and choral music. If variety was — as lesser philosophers had claimed — the spice of life, then this, Freddie declared, would be a veritable vindaloo. In order to give the concert — going under the banner, with presumably no puns intended, of La Nit — even greater appeal, it would (albeit somewhat prematurely) sound the starting pistol for Barcelona's 1992 Olympic preparations.

Another sizable media-attracting carrot cunningly dangled by Mercury's PR people was the news that King Juan Carlos and his Queen-styled other half would not only attend the show but that the British press, being some sort of honoured guests, would share a box with the royal Spanish personages.

Say no more, said the British press corps, and pausing only to remove dog-eared press cards from our trilbys and insert them into more climatically suitable sombreros, we were off to sunny Spain in search of stories true and tall.

"I'm only really going for the King and Queen angle," says the man from the Sunday Express on the Barcelona-bound plane. "I just want to introduce myself with a view to doing an 'At Home With…' feature in the future."

"I'm not actually interested in the concert," says a freelance Fleet Street photographer between mouthfuls of gratis champagne. "Everyone will have concert stuff. I just want to see what I can get backstage. Old Freddie doing something daft or anyone that shouldn't be seen with anyone — if you get my drift."

"I can see the headline now," giggle The Times to The Guardian, "The Two Queens!"

Upon our arrival we are regretfully informed that the press are not staying in the same Barcelona hotel as Freddie and friends. We are, in fact, a mile or so away in a smaller establishment where practicality takes precedence over luxury. Interestingly this is not due to the fact that the hotel in which Mercury and entourage are staying is fully booked. Indeed, the receptionist says they have "many rooms".

It would seem that Freddie wants to court the press without having any physical contact with them. In keeping with this, his PR people tell us that Freddie does not like, and consequently does not do, interviews. But, we are conspiratorially advised, if we mill about backstage during or after the concert we may be able to catch the occasional pearl of wisdom or screamingly witty conversational gem should we be fortunate enough to be within earshot of the great man.

The concert takes place at the head of Barcelona's Avinguda De Maria Cristina, a huge fountain-lined road the equivalent size and position of The Mall in London. Approximately 40,000 people stand an eye-straining hundred yards from the action whilst those willing to pay more for the privilege have seats in front of the stage.

We members of the British press soon discover that we will not be sharing a box with either the King or the Queen of Spain. In reality we are just about sharing the same city as the royal box, which is situated some two hundred yards from the press area. Thus the Sunday Express's chances of an '’At Home With…’ feature appear more than a little remote.

A warm ripple of applause washes across the audience and the fountains well asMontserrat Caballé opens the show with a powerful blast of her turbocharged soprano. A minor problem with the sound system ensures that her voice, which barely needs amplification, is actually 30 times louder than it needs to be and is almost responsible for the largest collective nose bleed in medical history.

A small procession of large operatic persons follow the mighty Montserrat. Some perform opera classics, others hit a more contemporary note with heftily vibratoed renditions of Summertime and My Way.

Then, surprisingly, Rudolph Nureyev and a friend materialise virtually unannounced — in what appear to be customised Celtic football kits — and perform a bizarre modern dance. They attract an enthusiastic if slightly non-plussed audience response.

After a short interval, a leather-clad figure with three-foot-long dreadlocks takes the stage. The King and Queen make a polite exit — taking with them 40 courtiers. From this we can deduce that the rock set is aboutto commence. From the pounding rock-reggae rhythms and familiar "Give me hope, Jo'hana" refrain we also deduce that the man on stage is Eddy Grant. Sporadic bursts of unself-conscious crazy-bonkers dancing break out among the foreign contingent of the press. The British reporters quasi-rhythmically tap their approval on paper cups struggling manfully to contain the "lively" wine of the region.

As quickly as he appeared, Eddy Grant vanishes, his two songs completed. His place in the spotlight is swiftly taken by a rather drawn-looking Dionne Warwick, who tells us, by way of an introduction to the person waiting in the wings, that four people were responsible for defining rock'n'roll: Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, Little Richard and our next guest. Who could it be? Wayne Fontana? Gilbert O'Sullivan? Midge Ure? The conjecture is humanely brought to an end by the arrival of a lean, mean-looking man in his sixties. Jerry Lee Lewis, for it is he, hurls himself into a firey Whole Lotta Shakin', his right hand alternating between punishing the upper register of his piano and tossing back the independent life-form that is his huge greasy fringe. Mid-way, he mule-kicks his piano-stool across the stage and attempts unsuccessfully to raise his right foot to the keyboard. As if he is being paid by the second, he collects jacket and exits stage right leaving the pick-up band to complete the job while he, presumably, collects the cash. Following a quick spate of journalistic jokes regarding The Killer's infamous libidinous predilections, it strikes the assembled company that Lisa Marie Presley might be present, as she has recently been collaborating with the curmudgeonly legend on some new material. With the scent of scanda lin their nostrils, a couple of writers scuttle away to investigate another potential exclusive, missing as they do Suzanne Vega's Spanish language version of Luka, a song about child abuse.

"Buenos noches, Barcelona! How ya doin’? Awlwight?" Spandau Ballet are, by all accounts, "big in Spain" and three songs later the crowd are indeed, judging by the noise, "awlwight", warmed up and, in a very real sense, ready for Freddie.

The orchestra heralds his arrival with an appropriately grandiose signature tune. He makes his entrance hand in hand with Montserrat, she in an alarmingly large frock, he in an uncomfortably tight tuxedo. Mercury's voice is immediately overshadowed by Caballé's well-drilled trilling and swooping. It is soon quite plain that his is not a strong operatic voice but a warbling rock tenor with cod-operatic pretensions. Comically, Mercury has also obviously experienced some difficulty in moderating his stage performance and seems to be constantly wrestling with a desire to finger a few hairy-chested air-guitar riffs on his microphone stand. That is, until you realise that there is no microphone stand. There is as a matter of fact, no microphone. Amidst all the booming and shrieking and violently passionate body language of their song, Barcelona, the realisation suddenly dawns that they are miming. The fireworks at the climax come as a welcome distraction to the poorly executed lip-synching. Back in the British press box, two bombshells of a less spectacular nature have been dropped; firstly, it is revealed that no press will be allowed into the backstage enclosure as Freddie just wants to relax with a few close acquaintances after the show; secondly, the photographers have discovered that the man from the Mirror has been in Spain for the past two days photographing Freddie and Juan Carlos. To cap it all, his pictures will be available for publication in London before they even return. "We've completely wasted our fucking time," points out the man from The Sun, astutely.

Originally Freddie had intended to forego the concert and instead throw a party for all his "friends" from the press. He promised fire-eaters, dancing bears, unicycling waiters, bearded women juggling live dwarves, that sort of thing. But in the restless tradition of true genius, he became bored with the idea before they'd auditioned the first midget.

So what must one do in order to meet the Frederick Bulsara, 41, the man for whom the word "ludicrous" has never been entirely adequate? The unblushing front-person of Queen who attempted to marry Madame Butterfly to Led Zeppelin whilst wearing a pink feather boa, having apparently secreted several pounds of root vegetables down his ballet tights. Here he is, the wrist-flicking pianist and melodramatic lyricist whom even Beelzebub couldn't stand the sight of. The macho-moustachioed bon viveur who could never decide whether to toss roses to his adoring fans or show them his bottom.

Although it has been some time since he has granted an interview, he still finds shaking hands with the press a painful experience, having had his fingers burnt badly in the past. Previous encounters with journalists have found Mercury proudly recounting tales of crass sexism, appalling wad-waving and indecent ego exposure. Much to his surprise, these unsavoury boasts were reproduced verbatim, invariably casting him as unbearably self-infatuated or obnoxiously arrogant. But he can't really be like that, can he?

In a last ditch effort to achieve congress of some description with the elusive showman, I revisit the entrance to backstage where another, younger policeman is now on duty. Press cards are dutifully displayed.

"Ah," he says, "Press? One moment please." This looks very hopeful. He confers quietly with another officer and returns scowling.

"No Press."

[Photo caption: Freddie and backing singer Debbie Bishop enjoy some post-performance Spanish cuisine: "We might do something live but, My God!, I'll need a lot of rehearsal."]

Back in the hotel at 2am there is a faint air of desperation. Stories need to be filed and no-one has a notion what to write. The men from The Sun and The Times receive the information that the reason for Mercury's miming was a previously unannounced "throat infection". This forms the basis for both their stories; The Times takes the opportunity to snipe gratuitously at Spandau Ballet, calling them "lumpen lager louts"; The Sun uses Mercury's ailment as an excuse to speculate, in its inimitable fashion, as to whether or not Mercury has AIDS.

Outside on the pavement, the empty-handed photographers have decided to cut their losses and "go out and get blitzed". They stop a taxi and inform the driver of their intentions. "Ah, yes," smirks the rotund cabbie offering a vigorous variation on the Twist. "You want go deesco deesco, yes?" "No, Manuel," quips a waggish smudge to a chorus of hearty belly-laughs. "we want go drinko drinko.”

No-one is cracking jokes at the airport the following morning. Most have remembered what they were drinking to forget and only have a hangover to show for a hard weekend's snapping and snooping.

Whilst waiting for a connecting flight in Brussels tempers begin to fray and a photographer lets the record company representative know exactly what's on everyone's mind. While this minor fracas is taking place, Freddie Mercury's PR explains that all is not lost. The lack of access had been due to Mercury's distrust of Fleet Street, but he will talk to Q — only briefly mind — at a party he is throwing in the strangely named Crush Bar at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden tomorrow lunchtime.

The party, it transpires, is the UK launch the Barcelona album and the world and his whippet are in attendance. Media folk from TV, radio, press, record companies have come, many with friends and immediate family, to drink a drop of "the old shampoo" and eat the posh scoff. As the chintzy bar fills to near capacity the chances of a quiet têtê-à-têtê with the man Mercury appear to be slimming by the minute. A reverential hush and a blast of the inevitable Barcelona and Freddie, diva in tow, is among us once again. Simpering benevolently and stopping to occasionally press some particularly influential flesh, he makes his way to a central table where he sits upright, lights a low-tar cigarette and fidgets with his champagne glass, looking for all the world as if he finds this mildly tiresome. Suddenly I am whisked into his presence. He looks pained and takes two tiny, impatient puffs on his cigarette. "Let's not make this too long, eh?" he grimaces.

Surely an aspiring opera singer shouldn't be smoking?

"Oh, do fuck off," he laughs, theatrically propelling a column of smoke heavenwards. "Ask your questions.”

Why opera?

"It was all her," he says motioning lazily towards Caballé. "I just thought, and still think, that she has a marvellous voice and on Spanish television about a year, a year and a half ago I happened to mention it and she came to hear it and she called me up and said, Let's try to do something, see if we can musically get something together. So we met in Barcelona and the story unfolds from there."

But what was the appeal of opera?

"I just liked her voice," he repeats adjusting his cuffs agitatedly. "Whether it be opera or whatever I just think she has this remarkable voice. And I was willing just to go on liking it, never thinking that she'd ask me to sing with her. Then it was, Oh my God!"

How will Queen fans react to this particular musical indulgence?

"I don't know," he sighs, making eye contact briefly for the first time. "I'll have to find out. It is a bit of a thingy. You can't put it under a label can you? The worst thing they call it is rock opera, which is so boring, actually. You can't label it in any way because I'm doing songs that I've never done before, the sort of songs to suit our voices. I found it very difficult writing them and singing them because all the registers had to be right and they're all duets."

Was he daunted when he first met Caballé?

"Now I'm getting to know her it's all right but at first… my God!" He tosses a hand limply into the air. "I didn't know how to approach her or anything. You have this sort of idea of a super diva walking in but she really made me feel at ease."

Did she have any suspicions about him?

"I asked her and everything and she said she'd heard of me and everything and before we met she'd got all my albums and started listening to all the old Queen records because she thought she was going to have to sing something like that! I said, No, no. I'm not going to give you all those Brian May guitar parts to sing, that's the last thing I want to do! I think she thought it would be more a rock'n'roll thing."

Did it make him reappraise his voice?

"No, no, no," he tuts disapprovingly. "In fact she did make me sing in different ways. Like she said, use your baritone, But no, no, no. I didn't take any lessons."

Why, I venture, did he mime in Spain?

"I tell you what," he announces, quite prepared for the question, "I really didn't want to sing live because for that we'd need a lot of rehearsals. It's a very difficult thing for me. They're complex songs and we just didn't have enough rehearsal time and we could have not done it at all but because of the Olympic committee and all that we had be he represented.

Did he feel he was letting people down?

"No, rubbish," he spits petulantly. "We were there. We haven't actually done anything live and I didn't want to just go and, well you know… There will come a time when we might do something live but my God, I'll tell you, I'll need a lot of rehearsal. Weeks and weeks of it. I've never done things with orchestras and if my voice was not to come up to scratch I'd be letting her down. I didn't want to take any chances."

What went through his mind before he took the stage in Barcelona? Was he nervous?

"Well yeah," he nods, "I was nervous. It was a cultural event. They had Dionne Warwick and Nureyev dancing so it was a mish-mash for everybody."

Will rock 'n' roll be a bit of a come down after this?

"No, not at all, because I'm currently working on a Queen album. I'll never forget that. That will come out in April or May next year."

Does he find it hard to keep the rock performer in him at bay whilst performing opera?

"I still find myself wanting to do this," he says, striking a familiar bicep-flexing pose. "It's strange for me to be wearing a tuxedo. But did you see her? Flying about all over the place!"

Does he share any common interests with his diva?

"We have a certain type of humour which is nice. I thought, My God! — because you always think opera divas are going to be austere and very sort of frightening — but she jokes and she swears and you know, she's a human being. It's good. She doesn't take herself too seriously."

Isn't all this the campest thing?

"Do you think she's camp?" he asks laughing. "It is so ridiculous when you think about it. Her and me together. But if we have something musically together it doesn't matter what we look like or where we come from."

Has he missed playing live with Queen?

"I do miss it to a certain extent," he says, toying impatiently with his lighter, "but I want to do the album first so we've got something to play live. I know I haven't done a live show for about two years but… I can't fucking do everything all the time!"

He laughs nervously at his outrageous closing quote and reaches for his low-tar cigarettes.

"Anyway, dear, let's have a breather, huh?"

[Photo caption: Fred and his diva pose for their chums from Fleet Street: "I happened to mention that she had a marvellous voice on Spanish TV and she asked me to sing with her. Then it was, Oh my God!"]

One of Brian’s many tributes to Freddie; this is my favorite.

Excellent article.

huw.substack.com

Nobody Left to Believe

Why are gays so afraid of Freddie Mercury?

Some parts of the interview with Chris "Crystal" Taylor (done by Roger M. Takahashi, translated from Japanese by deathtoming. And on this link you can read the whole interview):

[...]

RT: After working with them, how would you describe them briefly?

Crystal: The four of them have completely different personalities. Brian is really serious. As for John, he’s really quiet before you get to know him, but once you do, he’s a really fun guy. And Roger, we probably all know what kinds of things he likes. I have the same interests as him so we got along really well. Freddie is really shy, but a fun guy to be with. Most people probably don’t know this, but he has a surprising sense of humour.

RT: Please tell us more about Roger. What’s his personality like, and what kind of person is he?

Crystal: This is a hard question. He was born to be a rock star. First of all, he was the first one to buy a really huge house. A really expensive car, too. It was a black Ferrari 308 GTB. He was also the first to buy a house overseas, and the only one to buy a cruiser motorcycle. Off stage as well, he was acting like a rock star. Of course, he liked “various things” associated with rock stars. Ah, oh yeah, he was a wonderful drummer. Of course as a person, too!

RT: Was it easy working for Roger?

Crystal: Yeah. Like anyone, he can get into a rage quickly. But he goes back to his regular self immediately. I met him through work, but we became really good friends, and often went out to do stuff together. On days off, too.

[...]

RT: Haha. Please tell us any stories that make you laugh when you think about them.

Crystal: There are too many that I can’t answer. It makes me laugh just thinking about all the things we got up to together. We were really like high school students you couldn’t control.

RT: Do you ever listen to Queen songs?

Crystal: No, I don’t. It’s always on the radio.

RT: What are your top three favourite Queen albums?

Crystal: I still think to this day that Side Black of Queen II is amazing. After that, A Night at the Opera, I guess. Third, I’d say New of the World, I think.

RT: In contrast, please tell us if there is any work you don’t like.

Crystal: Dreamer’s Ball! I really hate this one!! This kind of song is inconceivable. And I saw Brian and Roger have a tremendously horrible argument about this song, so I also came to hate this song when it was played live. I’ve also had enough of We Will Rock You!! I probably heard it too much live. Body Language is also terrible. For albums, I hate Hot Space and The Miracle.

[...]

RT: What are the details of the biggest trouble you experienced during a show?

Crystal: The biggest trouble, eh. Not being asleep during the show, I guess! Ah, sorry, just kidding, haha. I always keep a spare bass drum pedal and snare drum nearby. Also, drum heads in all sizes. Roger tears them fairly quickly. The snare stand is always firmly secured to the drum riser, so if the head of the snare tears, you have to remove the snare drum only from the stand and replace it with a new one. Same for the bass drum pedal. We use Ludwig’s Speed King, and it’s a good pedal, but it breaks really frequently. When that happens, I have to slide between the snare and floor tom by Roger’s feet while he’s playing to switch out the pedal. I’m a big guy, so it’s really tough to slide in there. The most it ever happened was when it broke three times! That really was a tough one. When we get a new kit, we always order two bass drums. Roger always asks me why, but I always answer that it’s just in case. The second bass drum is always tuned so that it’s ready to go, and every evening during the show, it’s placed close to me. And, one night during a show in the US, it happened. Every night, I observe all of Roger’s movements in great detail, and here the kick pedal’s beater gets sucked right into the drum head. I immediately said, “Oh shit!” and went over to the middle of the stage with a bass drum. I removed the mics for the bass drum and toms, and removed the screws from the two toms above. I switched out the broken bass drum for the new one, put the two toms and mics back in place, and disappeared off the stage with the broken bass drum. Freddie saw this and announced, “This has never happened before!” The crew cheered and gave me a round of applause, but I paid no attention to it and returned to my spot. Someone was timing it, and I finished the job in 45 seconds. This is an accomplishment I should really be proud of!!

[...]

RT: Roger often changes his kit to match the album or songs he’s playing. Does Roger come up with those ideas? Or do you and Roger work together to assemble the kit?

Crystal: He had an endorsement deal with Ludwig, so it was all free of charge. We discussed what colours we should pick, or how we should do this and that. Of course, in the end Roger had the final say.

[...]

RT: Starting from 1977, the bass drum front head design went from the crest to album covers. Whose idea was that?

Crystal: Roger’s. I offered up some ideas, too, but Roger’s were excellent. We used a company called Cream. Do you remember the first drum head with the Queen crest? That was a silkscreen print. The others were all printed. It’s funny, I remember the name of the woman from the company that worked with us. You can remember it like this: Roger Taylor, Chris Taylor, Margaret Taylor!

[...]

RT: Whose idea was it to have Roger’s face on the drum head? It’s from a 1977 promo shoot; who decided to use that?

Crystal: This was Roger’s idea, too. Roger thought of it when the book he was reading had a cover like that. We both thought, “It’d be cool to use this!” and reached out but the fee to secure the rights was ridiculous. So I picked the most appropriate photo of Roger and made one. So, both Roger and I worked together on that one.

Photo added by deathtoming.

[...]

RT: During Live Aid, you were sitting between David Bowie and Roger, and behind Prince Charles and Princess Diana. Please tell me your memories from this time.

Crystal: Those were good seats! That day, all of the performers were granted the right to go to the seats with the royal family. John and Freddie opted out, saying they didn’t want to sit around all day. A limousine came to pick me up, and then went to pick up Roger and Brian. It was 10:30 am. And at 11:00 am we met some members of the royal family, and received our tickets for reserved seating. Of course I knew the royal family would sit in the royal box, and but I didn’t know where that would be. Then Andy, a friend of mine who worked for promoter Harvey Goldsmith, says to me “I got you amazing seats.” David Bowie, Roger, Brian and I weren’t concerned at all about who might sit in front of us and we were just chatting idly when God Save the Queen plays loudly and Prince Charles and Princess Diana appear in front of us. It’s our national anthem so I stood up and when I looked at the stage, I saw on the huge screen a 30-foot version of me! I thought, the whole world is looking at me. The next day, all of the newspapers had a picture of me in it! Amazing, haha!!

[...]

RT: I’ve been wondering about this a long time, but seeing how Roger is habitually fashionably-dressed, I’m guessing that he has been choosing his own stage outfits since around 1976, but is this correct? Aside from Freddie’s tights, was someone choosing the stage outfits for Rogers and the others?

Crystal: It was completely their tastes, and they were choosing and buying things themselves.

RT: Were there stylists and make-up artists that would go on tour with them?

Crystal: Someone in charge of the wardrobe would always go on tour with them. They took care of things like dry cleaning and ironing. Make up was always self-applied.

[...]

RT: After touring stopped, Roger had more opportunities for solo work. Were you assisting him at those times, too?

Crystal: For Fun in Space, Strange Frontier, and The Cross’s Shove It, yeah. They were all done at the studio I hate, Mountain Studios in Switzerland. For all of them, it was just the three of us: Roger, David Richards, and myself. I was so bored, and skiing was the only thing you could do there. Oh, that and drinking, haha. Roger produced Jimmy Nail, Feargal Sharkey, Mel Smith, and others. We were always a team. It was a good team....

RT: What was the deciding factor when you decided to leave Queen Productions?

Crystal: I knew that Freddie was ill and that they wouldn’t continue touring. I’d also been touring for 20 years, and thought it was the right time. I can’t get into the real reason, but I thought there was nothing left for the Queen members to do. If I ever get a chance to write a book, I’ll tell the whole story.

RT: Were you satisfied with the working conditions of the crew?

Crystal: I was very satisfied! The pay wasn’t bad, and most of all, all of the members treated me well. I never asked for a pay raise, and never thought the workload didn’t match the pay. I was allowed to use the company Range Rover whenever I wanted, and when I had a girlfriend in Los Angeles for 4 years, I could visit her whenever I wanted on days off and Roger would let me use his house and car. When I went to New York, Freddie would let me borrow his place. I was happy to work with them.

RT: When you watched the movie Bohemian Rhapsody, did the inaccuracies with the equipment stand out and bother you?

Crystal: I hate that movie. They went off and formed a band with the Queen name somewhere that wasn’t true, had them play Live Aid, and everything else is full of mistakes. You’re telling me they hadn’t played for two years before Live Aid? They had played five weeks earlier in your country, Japan, right? Before that, there was a tour in Australia. Rami Malek as an Oscar winner, that’s something he doesn’t deserve. I don’t mean to say bad things about Rami, but he completely missed his “true funniness.” [Translation note: the Japanese word used is difficult to translate, so “funniness” can be ridiculousness or strangeness.] The production team depicted him as a sad, miserable, lonely person. The exact opposite of all of this is the real Freddie. The We Will Rock You recording scene where the wives did the foot stomps and handclaps, give me a break with this bad joke. It’s all of the road crew and band that did that. It’s a fond memory of mine. Do you want to know more? Well then, if you do a talk or something through Music Life, I’ll talk about eeeeverything! Nudge nudge, wink wink!

RT: Haha. When I see Roger’s recent drum kit, there is not an ounce of beauty, and it’s very disappointing. Do you feel like giving him advice?

Crystal: Ah, that………. No!

[...]

RT: And, finally, if you have memories from Japan, please share with us.

Crystal: I have lots of memories from Japan! Only wonderful ones. I was completely culture shocked when I went in 1976. It was full of things I had never seen before. The buildings, billboards, and the food. I’d never used chopsticks before and it was my first time with Japanese food. I thought I might die if I didn’t learn how to use them. Every single person I met was really polite. I did a lot of sightseeing in Japan. More than any other country on this planet! The temples and castles took my breath away. Of course, there was the shopping, too. In particular, I got addicted to Walkmans and digital watches. I also bought aaaaall of the lenses and accessories for Nikon cameras! I could master it quickly and painlessly. I’d guess all of the crew spent money until they were broke. They’d buy kimono for their girlfriends. The concerts were wonderful. For Queen, the best fans were Dutch and Japanese, and that fact will never change. On the first Japanese tour, we played twice in one day, with the first show at 2 pm. You want us to rock at this time of day? The next was 6 pm. We were done by 9 pm and headed to Byblos [night club in Tokyo]. That, or Lexington Queen [another night club]. The Japanese road crew was always superb. As soon as they put the equipment in the flight cases, they would load them into the truck! Ahh, I’d better stop here, so I have stuff to say in my book, haha!

RT: When you look back to your brilliant days with Queen, when would you say was the best moment?

Crystal: That would probably be the time I answered the phone the first time. If I hadn’t answered, I wouldn’t have met wonderful friends and crew, and the four wonderful members of the band. It was really a wonderful time.

RT: Please give a message to fans in Japan.

Crystal: Usually, I don’t speak for other people. But this is a very good opportunity, so today I’d like to speak on behalf of Freddie Mercury, Roger Taylor, John Deacon, Brian May and everyone on the road crew. Everyone… that’s right, each and every one of us loved Japan. No matter the tour, everyone happily welcomed us. I love the country of Japan, and above all, all of the people are wonderful as humans, and I loved them. Thank you so much for being kind.

This wonderfully heartbreaking editing is brought to you by The Show Must Go On (Official Q+AL documentary, 2019)

You’re welcome :))))

Technically, it's Brian but I just wanted to try to draw him in a different way if he smokes or isn't vegan or something....

But I really like it...

This is the statue that Roger “stole” in 2014 from the entrance of the London theatre when the “Will Rock You - Queen musical” closed

“Roger nicked it, literally. He hired a truck and just took it. Phil McIntyre (whose company co-produced the show) was getting off the roof and Roger said -Drive it to my place- , "I think Brian was away. So, Roger stole Freddie from Brian.”