This gloriously stodgy mass of heartfelt has been circling my brain for about a week now. It’s a mess, I like it.
It’s an entirely solid piece of rock gospel, it just suffers from the fact that as Queen’s other gospel track, it stands next to the majestically weird perfection of Somebody to love. However, the one thing you get is the knowledge that Freddie would’ve loved to be let loose with an actual gospel choir, and so there’s something overtly joyful in the existence of the production.
Initially a duet with Rod Stewart from 1983, it got into some weird legal problem (a backing vocal that’s since been removed sounded too much like ‘Piece of my heart’ which is unsurprising, given that the lyric is pretty firmly familiar) and didn’t make it to the Works.
So it got rehabilitated, extracted from Rod, and turned into the only time where all Queen’s singers (so no John, heartbreakingly) take a stint on lead vocals.
The result is an utterly plodding, but infuriatingly catchy gospel sing along. No longer attempting to keep pace with Freddie’s viruosity, it’s an easier (but less fun) track to play with. It’s hard not to play along at home, whether you’re a clapper or a singer or even just a swayer. I’ve said from the off that Queen’s strength has always been the same as all truly brilliant pop, the ability to bring anyone in, give anyone something to do, bodily, vocally or however.
This brings you in.
Why don’t you take another little piece of my soul
Why don’t you shape it and shake it
’til you’re really in control
The thing is, I’ve always loved a bit of music hall caberat or a belted out musical. There’s something to the warm, soothing mediocrity of a song that anyone can join in on, where everybody’s asked to. And I don’t think I can shake that. This track sounds like it’d suit the finale of a Gang Show, or any other feelgood music hall.
It starts with a count in, (I hope it’s Freddie), and the choir starts warming up. There’s claps and organs, but it switches to Freddie and a piano that sounds it’s being hammered by a primary school music teacher.
But everywhere, it’s that simplicity that invites.
It’s the fact that Roger sounds properly knackered when he sings, and Brian even more tired.
Queen are utterly unique, always have been, nobody’s managed to hark back to them, really. But they make everyone able to feel like Queen. Not just when they play a gospel track a bit too slowly, but even when they’re belting out an operatic mess.
But I can see why they’d want this too. Just something simple and uplifting and ridiculously charming. Slight and slow and lacking in depth (except that damn choir, who own the whole track with confident ease).
It’s got one of Brian’s most bland guitar solos, but it’s fine, because it also lets the choir do a proper breakdown.
It kicked in just as I wrote that, and I literally could not stop myself taking my hands of the keyboard, shoving them in the air and clapping like a twat. I sung along and did the bloody airdrums.
It’s that sort of song. It’s what we need sometimes. I’m happy to hear Freddie be part of it, even if it never feels like his song.
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Queen: An Exploded Diagram is me having big and little thoughts about every Queen song in chronological order. If you want to support me, making it more financially viable and easier to explain to people at parties, please back my patreon.
Illustration by Emma.
Queen: An Exploded Diagram 