Freddie Mercury (3 page)

On that first day at Shepperton, Queen soon got down to the real business of the day. In the four or five hours that followed, I was introduced to Queen’s music in all its glory. There, for the first time and live, were all those songs that I’d heard over the years and never known who’d sung them. ‘You’re My Best Friend’, ‘Somebody To Love’, ‘We Are The Champions’ and many, many more. One thing that remained the same throughout the years I knew Queen was the effort and amount of work that they put into rehearsals. Practice makes perfect, which is what Queen shows were always intended to be.

They started each song and played it until one of them was unhappy with something. Then they would practise and practise until they were all satisfied. They would do this with each of the songs in their set. They might be able to get through five songs in about twenty minutes but then one problem with one song could quite easily take them half-an-hour to correct to their collective satisfaction. At the end of the two-week rehearsal period, they would try to play through the set complete, without stopping, although, even after so much work, this didn’t necessarily happen each time.

However, for that, my first day, I merely collected the costumes which needed to be laundered or cleaned and when an available car was going back to London, I was in it with Gerry Stickells, the tour manager. Two days later I went back to the studios laden with clean, ready-to-wear stage clothes and that was the first day each of the band
told me what their requirements would be for the coming tour. For John I had to get a pair of black Kickers, size 43, and two white T-shirts with round necks. For Roger, I needed half-a-dozen white wrist sweatbands and assorted black and white socks. Brian’s requirements were two T-shirts with a low neckline, one black and one white. He also asked me to look for a western-style shirt in black with white piping which I managed to get.

After having had all his clothes cleaned, Freddie then decided he was going for a new look. I had to buy three pairs of red PVC trousers, a couple of ties in red, one in leather and one in a shiny fabric as well as some thin black ties to act as belts. He also insisted on having skate-boarding knee pads and really lightweight white boots with black stripes, the sort that boxers wear. He’d decided to start the show wearing a leather jacket which he would then take off and perform in a T-shirt until that too came off and he would be left in just his trousers and boots at the end. Unfortunately, I couldn’t immediately get hold of the wrestling boots which he specified, although the assorted colours of T-shirts weren’t a problem and the braces in white and other colours, I found easily.

After two or three days hunting around the shops of London – Kensington Market and the nearby Slick Willy’s were two of them – I was prepared, or so I thought, for the first of the Queen shows which was to be in Cork, Ireland. Unlike the theatre, where all my previous experience had been, I found that Queen did not have a dress rehearsal. In the theatre, during the course of the dress rehearsal, you’re able to find the best times and places for changes and I would be able to plan my time during the show. Not knowing the band, I didn’t feel I could ask them when the dress rehearsal would be.

I was of course stunned when at the end of the final rehearsal I was told that, “That’s it. Next time will be the show!” However, I discovered that there was a general rule of thumb as far as Queen costumes were concerned which was: “If the gig is small, wear black. If it’s big, wear white.” Having now seen a lot of different shows, this was obviously a general rule with few exceptions.

The tour was to have begun by taking in Cork City Hall and then the Royal Dublin Showground venue at Simmons Court in Ireland. Although, the Cork concert was ultimately cancelled, the one in Dublin went ahead. I think I was dreading this, the first working concert with Queen, having had no trial run. I really hadn’t any
idea what I should be doing. In the end, everything flowed fairly smoothly.

The routine with which I was to become so familiar ran something like this: I would arrive at the venue with the band for their sound check. While they carried on checking on their various pieces of equipment and the volume in the on-stage monitors, I got started in the dressing room. The band would go back to their hotel after the soundcheck, leaving me to carry on. I had brought with me the list of essentials which were: one powerful hair dryer, one iron, boxes of tissues, cotton wool balls, real sponges, body splash which I seem to remember for some reason was a herbal one by Clairol, dressing gowns, the indispensable electric torches, setting gel for hair.

An hour and a half before the band were due to arrive, I began to sort out what I thought they might want to wear. The crew had put the huge, hanging costume trunks in the band’s dressing room and after opening them, I removed an assortment of shirts which could possibly be worn by Brian, Roger and John and quickly gave these an iron so that each Queenie could have a choice from a range of two or three shirts, and I hung these at four points about the dressing room. Although Freddie had been more specific, the T-shirt selection was still in several colours and so I laid all these out for him to choose. Each of them only had one pair of shoes for the shows so the footwear department was easily served.

On a table with a mirror, I laid out the make-up which all of them used in varying amounts, a technique they had developed to suit each one of them over their nine years of performing together. Stage lights bleach colours from just about everything including performers’ faces. To accentuate features which would otherwise disappear, you have to highlight them. Freddie especially made use of eye-liner pencil so that the people in the back of the hall could see his eyes. Some people might say that this instinctive use of eye make-up was a throwback to his days in both Zanzibar and India where kohl is used by all women throughout society to accentuate their eyes, the mirror of the soul. The standard list of make-up I always needed was two Max Factor Number 25 pancake, Lancome Maquimat three-and-a-half mascara, Revlon all-weather Ivory number three, Clinique continuous coverage Vital beige …Well, call them the Slap Kings of the rock world!

As far as underwear was concerned, the rest of the band took care
of their own, although Freddie always required a dry pair to wear after the show and these were my responsibility to provide as part of wardrobe.

I was more often than not in the dressing room when they arrived. The door would open and in they came, generally just to drop their bags before they went off again to the crew catering area to have tea or coffee or just a little snack to keep them going before showtime. Freddie generally remained in the dressing room and had a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and two sugars or hot lemon and honey depending on how he felt his throat was holding up.

I suppose it was only natural but as soon as the band all returned to the dressing room, they immediately began comparing it to the last. Which feature was better, which one was worse. “There’s more seats here than they had in the last one…”; “This room’s a lot bigger…”; “That toilet’s disgusting!”

They usually started to get ready about an hour before the show. There were, after all, four of them and so even a five minute burst at the make-up table required twenty clear minutes. Freddie always put on his make-up first, having removed his clothes and applied his eyeliner bare-chested. Each of them had their own robes. Freddie would often, if the room wasn’t tropical temperature, wear his in make-up. While the others generally dressed themselves – sorting out shoelaces or ties empirically – Freddie required assistance. Two processes which took time were putting on his boxing boots and lacing them and getting whatever he was wearing on his torso over his head without spoiling the make-up; and back then he would have the hair dryer out making sure that every single hair was exactly in place. Although Paul Prenter, Jim Beach, the band’s partners and wives would be allowed access to the dressing room, when the final getting ready began, most of these left to find their seats and to allow the band a short and important time to prepare themselves.

The band would spend the pre-show hour sensibly discussing any failings conceded in the last show or sections which they all or individually thought could have gone better. Post-show discussions of course were the opposite. These were the times for shouting and screaming and acrimonious accusations in the heat of the moment. Pre-show, they might decide on a change· in the running order and half-an-hour before the start of the show, the road crew – Ratty, Crystal and Jobby – would come to the dressing room to see if there
were to be any such changes. The band would get to talk to the sound people – Trip Khalaf, Jim Devenney – to discuss any last minute requirements like putting the drums up or bringing the vocals down in the monitors. To Trip, the instruction was always, “Make it louder!” I don’t know that Queen were happy with the volume of the sound at any of their shows. Always louder, louder, louder…

Tour manager Gerry Stickells, who had overall responsibility for the show and would have been in and out of the dressing room, would arrive to lead the band on stage surrounded by their security. Venue security personnel always guarded the door of the empty dressing room which was kept unlocked to cater for the eventuality of Freddie storming off stage and the person with the dressing room key being unavailable.

We would certainly not have been amused.

At the rear of the stage, we were all ushered into the ‘dolls’ house’. This was a small room made up of scaffolding and thick black fabric material which was positioned always – bar twice – in the same place upstage right at the very back of the stage area. This R and R station was used by every member of the band throughout the show as in it were drinks, anything from hot lemon and honey, through beers to vodka tonics. It was a place for the band to come and sit through Brian’s guitar solos and the playing of the ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ tape and where I had spare clothes that they could change into if they felt the need. This was also the place, particularly for the first tour I was on, where I would stand with a hairdryer and hairbrush to give Freddie his immaculately coiffed look for the last part of the show after he’d ripped off his sodden T-shirt and any other part of his costume which was uncomfortably soaked in sweat. He would sit down in front of the mirror and I’d give him a blow-dry in two minutes or whatever length of time Brian had chosen for his solo.

There were always five chairs in the dolls’ house and always a full-length mirror. I purchased one early on because of the number of times the promoters failed to provide one. The band got really upset at not being able to see themselves as the audience would see them before going on stage. There was always at least one light giving a warm glow and also an electric fan, as whatever the temperature outside, things could get very hot under all those lights on stage.

Going into the dolls’ house was where I first noticed the tangible excitement which had developed, hearing the crowd who are almost
psychically aware that the band are just about to emerge on stage. The PA system would stop playing the pre-concert tapes and the band’s intro tape would start. The crowd roared. This was the point of no return. There
was
no going back.

Jobby would be outside the entrance with Brian’s guitar and Brian, Roger and John would then go on stage which was of course smokebound. For some reason, Queen and excess stage smoke seemed to go together. At this point, Freddie’s perfect sense of timing came into play. The split second that the tape ends and Brian thrashes out his first chord, Freddie runs on stage and is picked out immediately by the spotlight.

So. Showtime.

This next is the hardest part for me to recount for it is impossible to find sufficiently accurate words to describe the feeling that everyone concerned with the band experienced at this moment when all the work – the lights, sound, all the backstage effort as well as the musicianship – come together. It is indeed the proof of the pudding.

For most of the duration of the show, I would remain on stage. Just in case. Just maybe a seam might rip and I’d have to dash to find another pair of trousers but this never happened once to me. When any of them came off stage for a while – like in the guitar solo – Roger would often change his shirt at the same time Freddie was changing and drying his hair. Brian would change his costume during Roger’s drum solo. As soon as these changes had happened, I knew I had to go back to the dressing room to pick up the four different coloured luxury towelling dressing gowns for each of the band to put on at the end of the show. Freddie’s was always yellow, although the others had no colour preference and these dressing gowns would be taken home at the end of each tour as new ones were purchased by wardrobe for each Queen outing.

The encores never changed, so stage security always knew when the band were about to leave the stage. As soon as the ‘God Save The Queen’ tape started, the four of us would take up our positions by the dolls’ house ready to throw the dressing gowns around our specific charges. Each of us held torches in one hand and our band member in the other as they came off stage blinded by the lighting rig into what was pitch black.

The dressing room was as close to the stage as was practicable in any of the venues and the only people in the dressing room for at least the
first half-hour after the show were the four band members, Paul Prenter and myself. Band security remained outside the door refusing anyone access until permission was given, which was usually by me putting my head round the door and tipping the wink. Paul and I would generally know what to expect of the band’s post-show behaviour by the progress of the show itself. Only rarely did matters become so fraught that any of the band members smashed either dressing room mirrors or furniture but I cannot say that it never happened. It was occasionally the only way they could relieve their intense frustration at something not having gone quite right.

While they were ‘discussing’ their performance, I would be struggling to unlace Freddie’s boots as quickly as possible and generally assisting in undressing the band while Paul would be pouring out the champagne and the drinks. If there had been a technical hitch not necessarily within the control of any of the technical crew, Gerry Stickells would come round as soon as possible to explain what had happened. Post mortems were absolutely necessary though not always helpful because the next show would be in a different venue where another, entirely different set of problems would have to be overcome.