27 years ago. 120,000 fans stand up, cheer and wait; fans of all race, color, gender, sexuality and age.
Out walks a man clad in nothing but washed jeans a white tank top and suspenders. The crowd waits- some stay silent out of respect others can’t keep it in. Finally it happens.
He puts one arm up.
This causes chaos. Like an Oprah’s Favorite Thing show on steroids.
There isn’t a firework, a vogue, a single lady, or a monster. The screams aren’t for any of that. The screams are for love. Love for this one man. Not just the man but what he represented: Freedom. Freedom to love, freedom to express, freedom to be. These aren’t statements made in his songs. He didn’t need to come out and say it. He WAS it, for the next TWO HOURS.
For the next two hours no one, black, white, young, old, could keep their eyes off this man. He sings every note, which ranged four octaves, and dances every song. Ten back up dancers could not match the energy, passion and soul.
Of course, Freddie Mercury wasn’t the only person who could do this. This wasn’t pop or dance; this was Rock N Roll. Mick Jagger and Steven Tyler are just a few who knew how to make an audience go crazy with just a microphone.
The difference with Mercury, was his connection. He performed for every single person in that audience. All the the love given to him was given right back. Whether you were in the front or 200 rows back, you felt it.
I’ve seen a lot of concerts: Britney Spears, Lady Gaga, Kylie Minogue, John Mellencamp and even Don Henley. I would leave saying “That was great” or “that was ehhh” or “I had a good time”. After a Queen concert you didn’t have to say anything, you wanted to change the world.
When you google Queen. The first twenty images are of a band not a crown. Because this Queen was worshipped more then any other person. He was worshiped for nothing but himself.
Happy 67th Bithday Farokh Bulsara. We miss you.