Frankie Thirteen dot com.

I love Queen.

I haven’t always loved Queen, though I never hated Queen.  Growing up, I knew a few of their songs without really knowing them.  One night, I watched Flash Gordon on TBS with my dad and came to know them, but I wasn’t really impressed with the film, so they didn’t exactly register then.  (I’ve since reversed my opinion on that film, dramatically so.)

But then I got to college and I met my friend Bekah, who loved Queen with a passion I had never before seen.  And more importantly, I saw Highlander one night on cable.  That isn’t the ideal way to see it, but holy shit, I loved that movie from the word go.  And Queen was an integral part of that.  With Bekah as my guide, I ventured further into that world, and came to respect, and ultimately love their flamboyant frontman, the fabulous Freddie Mercury.

The worst part of falling in love with Queen was accepting off the bat that Freddie Mercury had been dead eight years by that point, a most tragic casualty of AIDS.  Never would I get to hear that magnificent voice in person, or hear new songs from his pen.  It felt cruel to me, a particularly selfish feeling, I’ll admit.  But can you blame me?  After all, when Freddie Mercury was on, he was on.

Other bands may elicit more conversation when it comes to the all-time greatest crown (okay, mainly the Beatles and Stones), but in my opinion, there’s never been a band that’s rocked harder or entertained more than Queen, and a large part of that (which is sadly more evident in their relatively recent attempts to continue on without him) is Freddie Mercury’s considerable charm.  That isn’t to downplay the rest of the group—at its best, Queen was one of the tightest, greatest live bands to tear up a stage, and all four band members were accomplished songwriters, each of them penning songs that have ascended to rock canon.  Brian May and Roger Taylor weren’t bad singers either, and each of them have taken turns on lead vocals here and there.

But it was Freddie’s larger than life, magnetic persona that provided the spark, making them one of the most explosive acts ever.  You couldn’t take your eyes off Freddie, and with his mates ripping it up alongside him, the man was invincible. 

During periods of hiatus, Freddie, Brian and Roger all recorded solo material, and obviously, Freddie’s work shone brighter, but none of it could eclipse the music the band recorded together (along with the quietly diligent John Deacon) as Queen.  They were the greatest rock band EVER, and Freddie the greatest lead of all time.

Many point to 1975’s A Night at the Opera as the band’s crowning achievement, and it is one of the best rock albums ever, featuring the classic single “Bohemian Rhapsody.”  But it’s a versatile collection that also contains old-timey rags (“Seaside Rendezvous”), tender ballads (“Love of My Life”) and vicious anthems (“Death on Two Legs”), as well as this Brian May composition that Freddie absolutely tears into.  Showcasing their early prog-metal leanings, and heightening the drama and absurdity of it all, this is “The Prophet’s Song.”

Freddie Mercury would have been 65 today.  He’ll always be missed.