Mercury: An Intimate Biography of Freddie Mercury (19 page)

Brainsby was brought in by Trident at eye-watering expense to create Queen’s public profile. A star in his own right, he cut quite a dash on the music scene, and cruised around London in a Rolls-Royce. Painfully thin, lanky, and bespectacled, and usually dressed in a Mandarin-collared black jacket, drainpipe trousers, and Chelsea boots, he was precisely the kind of publicist Freddie could relate to. As well as having the requisite post–Swinging sixties eccentric image, Brainsby came with rock credentials. As a teenager, he had shared a Soho flat with Eric Clapton and Brian Jones (of the Rolling Stones). His column in
Boyfriend
magazine took him regularly to rehearsals for pop TV show
Ready Steady Go!
, which inspired him to launch his own PR company. When he met Queen, Brainsby was the most sought-after music publicist in London. He ran his empire from his large, rambling home on Edith Grove, between Fulham Road and the King’s Road, which was crammed with dead plants, rock chicks, and umpteen television sets. Those of us left can remember pitching up there for Brainsby’s parties, and not surfacing thereafter for several days.

Brainsby’s close friend Mick Rock had been his wedding photographer, and his client list featured some of the major artists of the day, from Cat Stevens and Thin Lizzy to Mott the Hoople and the Strawbs.

“The Queen approach came from their American manager Jack Nelson at Trident,” Brainsby remembered.

“It wasn’t like me to take on relative unknowns. But Queen were different. I remember going to see them at Imperial College. There was no stage, just a dance floor. There was Freddie doing all his posing in his white cape and what-have-you. That performance was far removed from the way they ended up. But Freddie certainly had presence and presentation. He already had his act together.”

What impressed Brainsby most was that Freddie did not try to hog the glory.

“What I thought was commendable was that at no time did they
style themselves ‘Freddie Mercury and Queen.’ It was always a group image. Freddie never tried to project himself as the leader. As far as I could tell, relationships within the band were mostly harmonious. They were unusual for rock musicians in that they were so intelligent. One could feel quite inadequate in their presence.”

At the beginning of their relationship, Brainsby admitted, there was a tendency to use Freddie more than Brian, Roger, or John for interviews.

“Then I learned to make sure that they did an equal amount. Later on, we’d save Freddie for the major ones. After that, it was Brian for the major ones. He’d always talk about making his guitar from an ancient fireplace, so that was easy, and got them into the more serious music papers. Roger, who was the pinup, did well in the teeny girls’ mags like
Jackie
and
19
. He was
so
pretty. At least the band weren’t precious about where they got coverage, which was just as well, considering so many journalists wouldn’t give them the time of day. Although I must say they were rather fussy about photographs. They had to approve every single one personally before I could release anything. Freddie was the most sensitive. It was all to do with his teeth. He was also such a perfectionist. A typical Virgo. He’d even created a coat-of-arms logo for the band, incorporating all their star signs.”

All of which pre-echoed Rob Reiner’s fictional heavy metal band, later the subject of 1984’s cult mockumentary
This Is Spinal Tap
.

As cool and laid-back as Brainsby was, he found himself seduced from the outset by Freddie.

“He had many stylish little quirks that would stick in your mind. He’d paint the fingernails of just his right or just the left hand, with black nail polish. Or he’d just varnish one little finger. He’d say ‘Darling!’ or ‘My
dears
!’ every other sentence, and his camp delivery was highly amusing and very endearing. He was great to have around. Never a dull moment. The girls all loved it when he came into the office.

“At the time, of course, he was living with Mary. To start with, his sex life was a complete mystery to us all; we could never quite fathom it. He certainly never spoke about it.”

Not that Brainsby socialized with or got that close to any of the band.

“I never liked to get too involved with clients. Mistaking them for your best pals is the biggest error in PR, because they just take the piss. Artists can become such a pain in the arse if you get too close to them. I left that sort of thing to the girls in my office. That’s what they were there for.”

Rock ’n’ roll, concluded Brainsby, speaking for all of us, “is an erratic, unstable, emotional, ego-ridden business. Just like its stars. Work in it as long as I have and you learn not to be surprised by the fact that virtually every rock artist is a paranoid eccentric. It’s what it does to them.”

Freddie’s saving grace was the fact that he was a
likable
eccentric.

“I really admired him,” Brainsby said. “Here was a man bursting with creative powers which were not simply in someone’s imagination. They existed. He knew he had it in him, however old he was at the time . . . twenty-seven, I believe. I mean, they were quite old for a band, weren’t they, to be starting out. He’d had all this inside him forever. How frustrating it must have been, knowing that he had what it took, trying desperately to make it big-time, and not getting anywhere for so long.”

Freddie gave the impression of being someone who had known exactly what he was capable of since childhood.

“He desperately needed an outlet for his creativity. Success must have been such a relief to him. There were times when he was fighting tooth and nail to get what he wanted, which doesn’t always bring out the pleasant side. Having to kick, struggle, scream, punch, and shout in order to make an impact and get through to people is always going to take its toll. That’s where Freddie was at when I got him.”

The most sought-after publicist in London wasn’t the only one with his work cut out.

10

I suppose the way we tackled our career sounds clinical and calculating, but our egos couldn’t handle anything but the best. I’ve always thought of us as a top group. It sounds very bigheaded, I know, but that’s the way it is.

Freddie Mercury

The thing that set Queen apart from other rock bands is that they actively set out to write hit songs. You can be the greatest musician in the world, but writing a three-and-a-half-minute gem that the world can hum along to is incredibly hard. If you can do that, and combine it with great musicianship, then you are truly onto a winner. Therein lies the secret to their success.

James Nisbet, session guitarist

A
ugust 1973
, and Queen were back at Trident Studios to record their second album.

Tony Brainsby’s unflagging efforts having raised the band’s profile substantially, the band were at last accorded their own legitimate studio time, during daylight hours if they wanted it.

On 13 September they convened at Golders Green Hippodrome to record an important session for BBC Radio.

Remembers BBC producer Jeff Griffin: “At Golders Green Hippodrome we recorded Queen’s first live
In Concert
session, compèred by Alan Black [the late, laconic Scottish DJ, cartoonist, and animator on the Beatles’
Yellow Submarine
film, who conceived the
In Concert
series]. They didn’t do the whole hour. I had Peter Skellern as support. I must admit now that it seems a bit of a bizarre combination. Queen were good on that. Freddie showed some signs of nervousness. Not altogether surprising, because I don’t think they’d done a lot of live work. The show went down well, and there was a lot of interest.”

That month, their American record company Elektra launched the first Queen album in the States. After what the band had been through in the UK, they weren’t expecting much. They were pleasantly surprised, then, when DJs across America hailed them as “an exciting new British talent,” and began to play their album tracks on air. A surge in requests wafted the record onto the
Billboard
chart, where it peaked at a respectable Number Eighty-three—no mean feat for an unknown band. The achievement did not go unnoticed. Brainsby had already introduced Queen to another fabulous act on his roster, the irrepressible Mott the Hoople. Mott were fronted by the sardonic, ringlet-haired Ian Hunter. Despite a staunch following on the London club scene, their album sales were disappointing. They’d called it a day in 1972, only reuniting at the behest of Bowie, who brought them under the wing of his own management. Mott secured a new contract with CBS Records (later Sony), and Bowie wrote and produced their hit single “All the Young Dudes.” Mott went on to enjoy further Top Twenty hits during 1973, including “All the Way from Memphis” and “Roll Away the Stone,” which prompted a major UK tour. Comprising twenty prime-venue dates, the tour kicked off on 12 November at Leeds Town Hall, and ended at London’s Hammersmith Odeon just before Christmas. Thanks to Brainsby’s introduction, not to mention the bribe (it was just becoming acceptable for bands to “buy” their way onto other bands’ tour), the support act was Queen.

On 1 November, at the Kursaal, Southend-on-Sea—the world’s
first-ever theme park, predating New York’s Coney Island—Freddie, Brian, and Roger sang backing vocals for Mott, on “All the Young Dudes.”

*   *   *

Maverick Radio Caroline, an unlicensed offshore service operating from a ship anchored in international waters off the coast of England, was founded in 1964. With a self-styled remit to challenge the monopoly of record companies and give the BBC a run for its money over music broadcasting in the UK, it launched the careers of many popular mainstream DJs such as Tony Blackburn, Mike Read, Dave Lee Travis, Johnnie Walker, and Emperor Rosko. Caroline’s heyday was cut short by the Marine, &c., Broadcasting (Offences) Act 1967, which outlawed the pirates in August that year and shook the BBC from its lethargy to create the new “teenage station,” Radio 1, launched by Caroline favorite Tony Blackburn the following month. Caroline would be back. Meanwhile, as Radio 1 found its feet, Radio Luxembourg came to the fore.

David “Kid” Jensen joined Luxembourg in 1968, aged just eighteen. The Canadian-born DJ’s late-night show,
Kid Jensen’s Dimensions
, aired between midnight and three a.m., became one of radio’s most popular shows, attracting a broad fan base that included British prime minister-to-be Tony Blair.

Jensen first met Queen in October 1973, during a promotional tour of European cities set up by EMI. As well as France, Germany, Holland, and Belgium, the band stopped off in the Grand Duchy to perform a live show arranged by “the Kid.”

“From 1968 until 1973, high-profile Radio Luxembourg was ‘the only place in Europe’ to hear rock and pop music,” explains Jensen.

“In those days, Radio 1 closed early evening, and then it would be Radio 2—at which point, many listeners switched stations to us. We concentrated on what was then called the ‘progressive’ sound. The station was cool, and all the artists of the day wanted to be associated with it. After his death, I met Jimi Hendrix’s girlfriend at a party one night, and she told me that Jimi loved my show. ‘We’d come back from parties and listen to you,’ she said.

“I was very taken by Queen from the beginning. ‘Keep Yourself Alive’ was the first track I ever heard, from their debut album. I had always favored guitar-based music, but this was something else. It had such great energy. They had it all: John, the quiet, reliable bass player. Brian, the brilliant guitarist. Roger, the incredible drummer, who enjoyed the rock-star lifestyle to the hilt. And Freddie Mercury, the great showman: perhaps the greatest of them all. Despite their excellent recordings and groundbreaking techniques, they’d got knocked back. I knew they hadn’t been able to get airplay on Radio 1. When I heard they were coming over on a promotional tour, I arranged a small gig for them at a venue called the Blow Up Club in the center of town, with about a two hundred capacity.