Freddie Mercury: The Biography (24 page)

‘The whole thing was an incredible circus. It was the first time I had been associated with anything that came near to Beatlemania.
There were crowds besieging hotels, long-lens cameras poking into the poolsides and everything. Originally Iron Maiden didn’t
want to do “Rock in Rio”. We were in the middle of a winter sell-out tour of America, and it would’ve meant cancelling a week’s
gigs to go to do one spot in one show. So we put really ludicrous terms to the organisers, like we wanted to be paid the equivalent
of five sold-out shows, recompensed for lost merchandising sales, air freight costs, etc. They also wanted us to do two nights,
and we said we’d only do one. But they just said OK, and it was a case of, well, I guess we’re doing it then.’

Iron Maiden, formed nearly ten years before and named after a medieval torture instrument, had survived the stagnation in
the heavy metal scene in the late seventies to emerge as perhaps the most definitive example of the New Wave of British Heavy
Metal. With a hugely energetic delivery, the band’s stage act by now was spectacular with elaborate lighting effects easily
to rival Queen’s. The single performance they had agreed to give was the one directly before Queen closed the first night.

‘Everyone was helicoptered in to the site,’ says Dickinson, ‘but because of the opposition from town they weren’t allowed
to fly at night, so it was, like, five hours getting back in traffic. Anyway, once there we found a set-up like we’d never
seen. There were roving gangs of security guards, all of whom looked in really bad moods.’

Like anything Latin, the show was behind time, but on top of that Maiden were fifteen minutes late in getting on stage. Dickinson
explains: ‘It was all pretty hairy. There was a furious row going on in the hallway, right outside our dressing room. Two
gangs of security guards were going mental, waving pistols at each other, and their guard dogs were all snarling and tugging
on their leads.

‘We were hiding like cowards, scared to step outside. Then, like something out of
Monty Python,
our own security guy eventually poked his head cautiously round the door and said, “Hey, guys! Would you mind giving it a
rest until we get on stage?” And they did! They all shut up, and we hurried past, but as soon as our backs were turned, they
all started up again!’

Once on stage, Dickinson said, ‘We were all nervous, and I didn’t think the monitor engineer was very good. We couldn’t hear
ourselves properly, and I got upset, as you do at twenty-three in front of 500,000 for the first time.’ But it was a good
show for them ultimately.

After Iron Maiden, Mercury had to lead Queen on stage. He was presumably a little edgy himself, because the schedule was running
late and his adrenaline was pumping at the prospect of performing before a record-breaking crowd. ‘Rock in Rio’ was not the
first time that Bruce Dickinson had met Mercury; that had happened in Sydney.

‘It was when I’d first joined Iron Maiden, first time on tour in Australia and Queen were there,’ he says. ‘Things were going
incredibly well, and I can’t remember how it came about, but we ended up being invited to Queen’s after-gig party. We all
ended up the worse for wear, of course, and Freddie was being very quietly outrageous, as was his way.’

Bruce Dickinson watched Queen’s closing performance in Brazil during the early hours of the morning. It did not go according
to plan. ‘Two or three of their numbers didn’t go down well with the crowd,’ he recalls, ‘then when they
launched into “I Want to Break Free”, they didn’t really take to Freddie dressing up in women’s clothes, but Freddie obviously
didn’t understand what was wrong.’

In Mexico an audience had hurled rubbish at Queen as their show of appreciation, but the cans and rubble now rained down on
them alarmingly. Hiding his confusion behind a false heartiness, Mercury brushed aside the props and carried on singing. He
worked hard to ensure that they earned encores, but the confidence with which he strode the Brazilian stage belied his inner
distress.

Dickinson reveals, ‘When Freddie came off stage, he broke down in tears. He just had no idea why the audience had reacted
like they did. Someone was quick to explain to him that “I Want to Break Free” was regarded as a freedom song there, and they
had resented him sending it up, but he was very upset.’

That Mercury hadn’t guessed this came as a surprise to Dickinson. To his knowledge, the star had experienced something similar
before. ‘He got the same reaction once in America to “Another One Bites the Dust”,’ says Dickinson. “There is a white, homophobic
– bonehead – bunch of people in the States, and there was a large minority who’d kinda worked out that Freddie wasn’t one
of us, if you know what I mean? When that minority grew, it put the lights out for Queen in America for a time.’

Of Mercury himself, Dickinson maintains: ‘He was fantastic. Everyone says now how unique he was, but he really was. He managed
to carry it off with camp aloofness and yet be taken completely seriously, which is quite an achievement. He was so good that
he could be schmaltzy and take the piss out of himself, then, in a heartbeat, turn it around and stop the show with a number
like “Who Wants to Live Forever”. Now
that’s
a front man.’

When for the second and last time Queen closed the show
in the early hours of 19 January, there wasn’t a bust or wig in sight. Brazil’s Globo Television had covered the festival,
and Queen purchased the rights to their own performances with a view to a future video release.

Back in England Mercury lost himself again in the gay clubs, where the latest dress code was the ‘high clone’ look, comprising
tight blue jeans and a white singlet. Suitably attired and having grown back the requisite bushy moustache, Mercury mostly
frequented Heaven. It was here, towards the end of March, that he was to run into Jim Hutton for a third time.

According to Hutton, Mercury had been after him for months. Yet it was Hutton who switched socialising from Vauxhall to Charing
Cross. In this venue, heaving with clubbers, Mercury is said to have spotted Hutton instantly and approached him once more
with the offer of a drink. Queen had just headlined at the world’s biggest rock festival – all of which had received substantial
coverage in music magazines – and Mercury’s debut solo single ‘Love Kills’ had been a massive hit in the gay clubs. Incredibly
Hutton maintained that he still had no idea that Mercury was a famous rock star. However, instead of the curt response he
had delivered a couple of years before, this time Jim Hutton countered by offering to buy Mercury a vodka. The star accepted
Hutton’s offer with the appalling gambit, ‘How big’s your dick?’

Resilient to such crassness, they danced most of the night together, then Hutton returned with Mercury’s crowd to the Kensington
flat. Fairly drunk, Mercury took time as always to cuddle his two cats, Tiffany and Oscar, before snorting more cocaine and
eventually drifting off to bed with his date. In the morning they exchanged telephone numbers, but it would be summertime
before they were to meet again.

On 9 April Mercury’s second solo single ‘I Was Born to Love You’ was released on CBS, followed at the end of the month by
his debut solo album
Mr. Bad Guy.
Recorded with
Mack at Musicland Studios over the previous two years, the album went gold, reaching number six in the UK charts. A melting
pot of musical styles, ranging from light opera to reggae, the album would later be considered ahead of its time – but on
first release it was savaged by the critics.

Mercury could ignore them, though, being preoccupied with another Queen tour of Australia and New Zealand. The trip had been
dogged by anti-apartheid groups heckling them outside venues and hotels. But they had also been approached with an intriguing
offer, as their session keyboard player, Spike Edney, reveals: ‘I’d briefly rejoined the Boomtown Rats between Queen’s Works
tour and them going to Australia, and Bob Geldof rang me up in New Zealand. He was going on about an idea he and Midge Ure
had to follow up the Band Aid single with a massive rock concert, and he wanted to know if Queen would appear on the bill.’
According to Edney, Geldof was using him as an intermediary in case Queen declined. ‘I told the band about the idea,’ he says,
‘and they were piqued by the prospect, in theory, but it seemed too unlikely a project ever to come off – and so they said
no.’

Perhaps Queen were also still annoyed at having been left out of the Band Aid recording. When Edney relayed their refusal,
he tempered it by saying that it might be worthwhile for Geldof to personally approach the band. In the early stages of putting
together the international Live Aid show, it was not the case that all the superstars were clamouring to take part. Bob Geldof
had become adept at massaging the truth as he played one artiste off another. His initial negotiating tactic with Queen was
to stretch the truth, saying he already had acceptances from David Bowie and Elton John – whom he had lured in by suggesting
that Queen had said yes. But for the time being the band remained resistant to Geldof’s overtures.

Queen left for a week-long visit to Japan for what would turn out to be their last tour of the Far East. By mid-May they
had returned to Britain, their touring commitments for the year concluded. Mercury headed to Munich where he indulged in a
different kind of play-off. His relationship with Winnie Kirkenberger had come under pressure through Mercury’s association
with another man, known only as Patrick. Neither appears to have been willing to give up on the star’s attentions, and it
was a less than attractive side of Mercury’s personality that, recognising this, he shamelessly enjoyed playing one lover
off the other. It indicated no genuine depth of feeling for either participant in this
ménage à trois.
Mercury thrived on his role as the puppet master, exhibiting once again his desire to wield control.

The Live Aid project had grown beyond all expectations. From a massive concert in aid of the Ethiopian Famine at Wembley Stadium
in the summer, a parallel gig was to take place at JFK Stadium in Philadelphia. Queen began to reassess their position, although
Geldof still had some persuading to do – or perhaps it was assuaging Mercury’s bruised ego.

Bob Geldof revealed he had traced Jim Beach to a holiday hideaway. Queen’s manager warned him that Mercury was very sensitive.
Characteristically blunt and running out of patience, Geldof said, ‘Tell him that it’s going to be the biggest thing that’s
ever happened.’ That had already become glaringly obvious, and too smart to resist any further Queen agreed to participate.

This ambitious live event was a mere month away when Mercury finally contacted Hutton and invited him to a dinner party at
Stafford Terrace. On his arrival Hutton wasn’t entirely among strangers as he had known Peter Freestone after they had worked
together in the same London department store. He was also reacquainted with Joe Fanelli, whom Mercury, with his penchant for
attributing people nicknames, had dubbed Liza. Used strictly in intimate company, Mercury was Melina, as in the Greek actress
Melina Mercouri, famous for her portrayal of
a prostitute in
Never on Sunday.
Paul Prenter was also present. There appears to have been a lot of tension that evening.

Melina himself was blissfully unaware of this, though, as he was hitting the coke hard that night. This wired him up, causing
him to gabble incessantly. With Mercury’s fantasy mate still the actor Burt Reynolds, he rapidly convinced himself that Jim
Hutton was a near enough lookalike. Attracted to a certain vulnerability in Mercury, once again Hutton stayed the night. The
following day the star went back to Munich, but from this point on Jim Hutton would become his regular lover, eventually moving
in to live with him.

Unpredictable and fiercely demanding in his physical needs, Mercury’s legendary libido would seem initially to have surprised
Hutton. Once describing their sex as raunchy but not especially acrobatic, on the whole Mercury apparently preferred the less
dominant role in their relationship. When unbridled lust turned to love, a special companionship developed between the two
men, about which friends would later talk with much respect. Unlike Tony Bastin, who lasted two years with Mercury, Jim Hutton
remained with him to the end of his life and came closest, among the star’s gay lovers, to rivalling Mary Austin in his affections.
At this point Austin lived in a luxury flat in Phillimore Gardens close to Garden Lodge. She was involved in his business
and daily life, and she and Hutton were quite quickly introduced to each other. Mercury revelled in the passion of a new romance.
He enjoyed playing roles, even if they were short-lived and subject to sudden change. For now he was content with his latest
affair, and liked to follow steamy love-making by lounging with his lover watching television on the sofa. Hutton saw to his
every comfort, and the star felt pampered and cherished. Until, that was, he had to step out of this cosy domesticity and
return to his role as egotistical performer; which colourful persona he was about to assume for Live Aid.

Queen’s slot was to start at 6 p.m. With satellite link-up, this meant they would be the first band to be seen on live TV
in America. On 10 July they barricaded themselves in to the Shaw Theatre in Euston for three days of intensive rehearsal.
Each band had been allocated twenty minutes, and to use this to best advantage Queen decided to restrict their show to their
most famous hits. ‘Later such a fuss was made about how ingenious Queen had been, but to us it was the obvious thing to do,’
Edney recalls.

Mercury, though, was clearly proud of their strategy, as DJ Simon Bates recollects: ‘I interviewed him again just prior to
Live Aid, and he was particularly proud of the hard work they were putting into the Queen set. He said to me, “Wait until
you see it. You’ll be blown away!” And, of course, he was right.’

On Saturday, 13 July 1985, everyone at 12 Stafford Terrace was in high spirits. Mercury watched on TV as, at precisely 12.01
p.m., Status Quo took the Wembley Stadium stage before a packed audience and opened to the sounds of ‘Rockin’ All Over the
World’. It was to be the first number of a mammoth sixteen-hour mega-gig, whose final line-up included Bob Dylan, Tina Turner,
Bryan Adams, Paul McCartney and Dire Straits among other rock celebrities.