Freddie Mercury: The Biography (21 page)

Although Queen first formed in 1970 with Mercury, Taylor, May and Mike Grose, the band chose to consider themselves complete
only when John Deacon joined the following year. Consequently, they designated 1981 as their official tenth anniversary, and
in the last months of the year launched a series of special releases to mark the occasion. Each featured a specially commissioned
portrait of the band by the Earl of Snowdon.

Greatest Flix
was a novel compilation of all the videos for Queen’s singles since ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, followed by
Greatest Pix,
a book of photographs compiled by Jacques Lowe, and the
Greatest Hits
album. Ten years on, only three other albums had spent longer in the charts: Fleetwood Mac’s
Rumours,
Meat Loaf’s
Bat Out of Hell
and the soundtrack of
The Sound of Music.
Queen rounded off their celebrations with two gigs at the Forum in Montreal. These concerts were filmed for possible release
as a feature film of the band the following summer.

By early December Mercury had returned to Munich, ostensibly to continue work on Queen’s new album. But the emphasis for him
really lay more on spending time at clubs such as the Sugar Shack, a favourite haunt of the band’s. Mercury was ready to plunge
back into the so-called ‘Bermuda Triangle’ of the city’s crowded gay scene. With its wealth of venues, he found the atmosphere
there more relaxed and open than in London. And the places he enjoyed the most were the bars and clubs that drew an interesting
mix of straight and gay people.

Mercury had found an apartment in Munich and installed his retinue of attendants there to ensure his life ran smoothly. Paul
Prenter always accompanied him through the chaos of the nightclubs and witnessed first-hand the extent of Mercury’s hedonistic
indulgence. Relentless partying required a lot of stamina, and Mercury was using cocaine heavily just to make it through the
night.

His evenings out were planned very precisely. Dressed to kill, he would go by chauffeur-driven limo to a club with his bodyguard
and personal assistants. Once outside the venue, someone would go in to survey the scene and report back to Mercury, before
he himself would enter the premises. Once inside, it was often bedlam. The place would be heaving and boisterous anyway, but
Mercury was like a gigantic magnet, and his presence would instantly crank up the tension.

His worldwide fame had its drawbacks. As one of the most famous faces on the gay circuit, he was undoubtedly exploited for
who he was. Yet Mercury was well aware of this and could turn it to his advantage when he wanted. If nothing else, it guaranteed
a greater number of men willing to go home with him.

Someone who can corroborate this is the only woman, apart from Mary Austin, to occupy a special place in Mercury’s heart.
German actress Barbara Valentin was to meet Mercury one night in a Munich disco called New York. Herself a cult figure, closely
associated with her work for film director Rainer Werner Fassbinder, she was popular in gay circles.

‘I was standing in a crowd, and Freddie was close by, surrounded by friends and with his bodyguards hovering around,’ recalled
Valentin. ‘I knew who he was, but we had never met, except maybe to nod and say hello in passing. Well, this particular night
everyone was jostling about as usual, and Paul Prenter walked accidentally into my burning cigarette, and he turned on me
and started shouting and swearing at me. I told him to watch where he was going and turned away. A little later he came back
to apologise and introduce himself, so I said who I was.

‘Next day Paul and I met for dinner, alone, and as we talked we realised that we saw each other’s crowd something like at
least three times a week in the same places. A few days later back at the same disco, Freddie and I then met. Nobody introduced
us as such. We just sort of came together.’

According to Barbara, from that first moment they clicked. ‘I adored him,’ she said. ‘We fitted together absolutely instantly,
and we never separated for three whole days. He stayed at my house, I went to the studio with him, and we went out to the
clubs together. We talked all the time, and Freddie told me, “My God! Finally I can talk to someone who understands the real
me and what I want to do with my life.” That was something he was needing badly.’

It is clear that Mercury found something very different with Valentin to the long-standing bond he continued to have with
Mary Austin. Certainly it seems that the fun-loving actress’s complete and natural understanding of his homo-sexuality filled
some kind of gaping void in him. At any rate
he rapidly developed a unique and tender relationship with Valentin, which spanned several years, and which she found difficult
to define.

‘We had an amazing time together whenever he was in Munich,’ she said, ‘and just like that first time, sometimes we’d spend
days on end never parting. I loved him, I still love him, and he loved me. It was a once in a lifetime thing between us, so
special. I wouldn’t want it to happen again. I’m only grateful that it came to me once.’

Valentin and Mercury both adored nightclubs, and on many occasions visited the Bermuda Triangle together. Valentin saw just
how many men, looking for rich pickings, homed in on the superstar the second he walked through the door. But Mercury was
nobody’s fool. He was a man who did nothing he didn’t want to do. Playing the game, however, he enjoyed stringing along a
few men at a time; then later, much to their delight, he would invite them back home.

At his flat, though, the tables turned as Mercury indulged in one of his favourite games. His groupies were to strip naked
and parade before him in nothing but a selection of women’s hats. His taste continued to lie in large-built men, and he would
select his bedmate and summarily dismiss the others. His sex drive, possibly drug-propelled, still bordered on the unquenchable.
Inevitably, as 1982 approached, his liaison with live-in lover Tony Bastin, who had flown to be with him in Munich, was rapidly
heading for the rocks.

By January 1982 Queen realised that more discipline was necessary to pull together their new album. For a time they worked
daily at Musicland Studios. Business of another kind, too, had to be transacted when Queen’s EMI contract for the UK and Europe
came up for renewal in the spring. Their association had proved immensely fruitful, and on 1 April it was cemented further
to include the band’s next six albums.

The following day war broke out between Britain and Argentina over sovereignty of the Falkland Islands. A sideshow to the
issue was the Argentine authorities’ ban on Queen performing in their country for the duration of the conflict. ‘Under Pressure’
was currently topping their charts and, unamused, they instantly banned it from the airwaves. When asked to comment on the
war Mercury replied, ‘It’s our young men killing their young men. There’s no glory in being blown to bits.’

A week later Queen embarked on the first of their touring commitments that would span the next eight months. By the time they
arrived in France, their latest single ‘Body Language’ had been released, reaching only number twenty-five in the UK charts.
This coolness by the fans was also reflected at performances. Perhaps too much time had recently been spent in Munich’s clubland,
for the band seemed unduly influenced by the unchallenging funky disco sound.

Experimenting with rhythmic rock was the official line, but loyal fans refused to be pacified. They could only be further
upset when the album
Hot Space
finally emerged on 21 May.

Gone was the hard-rock edge, gone, too, was the familiarity of Brian May’s dominant guitar work; replaced by the much disliked
synthesiser. May himself wasn’t keen on the album, and, in an unusual step, he publicly admitted as much. Possibly to boost
this dip in their popularity, on 10 June, for the first time in five years, Queen appeared on
Top of the Pops,
performing their new release ‘Las Palabras de Amor (The Words of Love)’.

By this time their UK/Euro tour had come to an end. There was now a decent break before they were due to go on the road again,
and Mercury rushed back to Munich. His strained relationship with Tony Bastin was now at an end. They remained friends and
even occasional lovers in the years ahead but never again lived together. It wasn’t long, however, before there was another
man in Mercury’s life, Winnie Kirkenberger, a handsome German restaurateur. They had met in a bar, and Kirkenberger’s looks
very much fitted the stereotype of Mercury’s ideal lover.

It is said that initially Kirkenberger did not realise who Mercury was until someone tipped him off. He was, in any case,
hugely unimpressed. The story goes that when the time came to leave the bar together that first night, Mercury had announced
that he had a car and chauffeur waiting. Winnie is said to have replied that he didn’t give a shit, that he was walking home,
and if Mercury wanted to be with him, he’d have to walk too. This butch display supposedly thrilled Mercury, allowing him
to feel he was liked for himself and not his fame. But, it is a scenario that is hard to accept.

By 1982 Freddie Mercury was a superstar, one of rock’s most distinctive figures. The gay scenes of London, New York and Munich
had dominated his private life for the last five years.
Among those of his stratum of homosexual subculture, he was probably the most sought-after conquest. Just a rumour of his
imminent arrival could be enough to create a buzz of anticipation, and at times his entrance into a club would stop the show.
It defies belief that anyone from this social world could not have known Mercury.

The suggestion, too, that Mercury might have believed the old ploy of not being recognised – and so wanted purely for himself
– doesn’t fit his character. One of the many aspects of Mercury’s make-up was that he was a thinker and a manipulator. He
admitted that he enjoyed being in love, but that didn’t mean he was a soft touch. The star was never too weak, as has been
suggested, to make choices when it came to his personal life. For all his devotion to Mary Austin, and the claims that he
yearned for a family of his own, he was able to sever that part of their bond that could have brought marriage and stability.
He exchanged their secure heterosexual love for his desire to lead a full homosexual existence.

Even his choice of men, the rough tough type, seems significant. In public he was so flamboyant and loud, it is too facile
to claim that he sought to be dominated in his private life. But it was his own way of domineering, the fact that he was always
the more powerful in his relationships because his fame and wealth gave him the edge over the type of men he preferred, those
with much less money and power than him. He also chose men who were not especially well educated, which was perhaps another
way of ensuring he kept control, something very important to Mercury.

Reinholdt Mack came to believe, for all the star’s sexual activity, that he was ultimately dissatisfied with his gay lifestyle.
According to Mack, Mercury seriously considered giving up on his homosexuality and going straight. If that were so, it is
also indicative of the strength of his willpower. In any event, and however it began, Mercury’s relationship with Winnie
Kirkenberger, although far from monogamous, would span the next three years.

The next tour was mid-July, another of those gruelling Canadian/US trips that involved playing almost every night, in nearly
every state and with frequent wild parties. Now thirty-six, Mercury admitted that he was beginning to dislike this kind of
hectic schedule. In contrast to his days of painted fingernails and elaborate posturing in saucy leotards, his stage act had
become more energetic. For the entire show he would repeatedly rush the length and breadth of the stage, up and down open
flights of stairs. It was an extremely draining performance.

His tour preparation now focused almost as much on being physically fit as musically tight. The financial incentive, too,
had gone. Said Mercury once, ‘It’s not a question of money any more. I spend money like it’s nothing. You know I could be
penniless tomorrow, but I’d get it back somehow.’ But, still, the love of music remained. He conceded that there would come
a time when he couldn’t dash about the stage and added, ‘But music will always be my thing.’

There was, however, a special pleasure for Mercury this tour. In January, while recording
Hot Space,
he had taken time off to sing backing vocals, along with Roger Taylor, on ‘Emotions in Motion’ by American rocker Billy Squier.
Squier was to form a friendship with Mercury, and on learning of Queen’s US tour he agreed to join them as their celebrity
guest.

Starting at the Forum in Montreal, the tour ended at the Los Angeles Forum on 15 September 1982. It was to be, little did
they realise, Queen’s last ever American tour. Six dates in Japan followed a month later, ending with a massive outdoor gig
at Tokyo’s Seibu Lions Stadium. Then they returned to Britain in time to enter into protracted, though ultimately fruitless,
negotiations with Elektra over the renewal of their contract. In December, as an interim measure, they signed all albums to
EMI.

Splitting from the US record label coincided with Queen’s decision to take a year off. This might have shocked their fans,
but privately it had been brewing for a while. Living and working so closely for twelve years had taken its toll, with serious
arguments within the band a regular feature. They were simply exhausted and getting on each other’s nerves. A rest was required
if they hoped to survive as a band. The music press did their best to turn their announcement that they would not be touring
for the next twelve months into a three-act drama. But Mercury dampened their imaginations by declaring, ‘It’s got to the
point where we’re actually too old to break up. Can you imagine forming a new band at forty? Be a bit silly, wouldn’t it?’

A year off cleared the way to undertake solo projects, and Mercury was quick to book time at Musicland Studios with Mack.
He had nurtured aspirations of creating music without Queen for some time and was looking forward to the challenge. No sooner
had he begun on his solo work than he got sidetracked. Producer Giorgio Moroder invited Mercury to collaborate with him. Moroder
had won an Oscar for his music for Alan Parker’s
Midnight Express
and was working on an updated version of the classic silent fantasy
Metropolis.
When Moroder’s
Metropolis
was released the following year, Mercury’s contribution to its soundtrack joined those of Adam Ant, Bonnie Tyler and Billy
Squier among others.