Freddie Mercury: The Biography (26 page)

Mercury already had a stylish military-type black jacket of which he was proud, that he had worn at his recent birthday party.
He opted to wear this again, and the Emanuels simply had to design a sash to accompany it. ‘He came along at the last moment,
and it was all pretty chaotic. But he was a good sport to do it,’ adds Emanuel.

On the night itself Mercury and Jane Seymour made a stunning couple, with the star’s presence alone causing a stir. ‘He was
very much the star that night,’ Emanuel recalls. ‘You couldn’t get near him for the crush. When I had first met him it was
a bit like that – very much a magnet, swamped by people at every turn. But then I met him at the ballet when he’d go along
to see Wayne dance, and he was a lot less formidable. When he got ill later, he often went quietly to the ballet, slipping
in unnoticed at the back. He was a really nice guy and far removed from his flamboyant reputation.

‘The funny thing is, in the beginning when he behaved outrageously, I got the distinct impression that it was in a strange
way so as not to let people down who expected it of him.’

At the end of the evening Mercury and Seymour left for a hotel where a party was to be held, still dressed as bride and groom.
Astonished hotel guests recognised the couple and hastily photographed them, believing they had stumbled on a celebrity marriage.
Mercury found it highly amusing and did nothing to disabuse them.

As the year drew to a close, more sombre matters preoccupied him. In October the American matinee idol Rock Hudson had died
of AIDS, which revelation had sparked off an
intense public awareness of a disease hitherto publicly unrecognised. Although the medical profession knew little about the
illness, enough was known to ring alarm bells throughout the world’s gay communities. Three high-risk categories had now been
identified: homosexuals, people who had unprotected sex with multiple partners and drug addicts. Mercury fell into the first
two categories – and could have no way of knowing whether any of his innumerable one-night stands had been needle users. Clearly
anxious, he secretly took an AIDS test, which proved negative. His huge relief, though, would be short-lived.

At the end of 1985 Mercury shocked Barbara Valentin and his friends in Germany by abruptly quitting Munich for good – leaving
behind the life he had revelled in for years. He called himself a man of extremes and on occasions could effect sudden changes
in his life with no apparent weakening. But he was not emotionless; indeed, his conversions nearly always had a serious reason.
With hindsight his departure might have been linked to his fear of contracting HIV, but equally he appeared to those around
him simply a changed man. In London he stopped trawling gay bars for just any pick-up, although he continued to cheat on Jim
Hutton.

Infidelity in Mercury’s personal life remained normal for him, and his only steadfast commitment was to Queen. Throughout
January they worked on the soundtrack for
Highlander.
On the album’s completion, their UK and US labels differed over which single to release first. Capitol Records opted for
Mercury’s ‘Princes of the Universe’, while EMI preferred Roger Taylor’s ‘A Kind of Magic’, which was also the album title
track. Both accompanying videos were impressive in their individual way.

For ‘Princes of the Universe’
Highlander’s
star, French actor Christopher Lambert, agreed to recreate his screen character to enjoin battle against Mercury. And for
‘A Kind of Magic’,
Mercury portrayed a magician who temporarily transforms three vagrants into rock stars. Its sophisticated animation guaranteed
its unique appeal, and when ‘A Kind of Magic’ came out on 17 March, it claimed the number three spot in Britain and shot straight
to the top in thirty-five other countries. The album release, to be backed by a major tour already many months in the planning,
was set for summer, and in the intervening time all four band members pursued their own interests.

In Mercury’s case, having dabbled with ballet, he had now set his sights on the world of stage musicals – with a little help
from his friend Dave Clark. Clark was staging
Time,
a lavish production with spectacular sets and ambitious special effects. Its theme was human survival, and the central character,
a spiritual rock star, was played for the first year of its run by Cliff Richard, later replaced by David Cassidy. There was
also to be an album featuring a variety of artistes, including Dionne Warwick, Stevie Wonder and Julian Lennon. Clark had
asked Mercury to record a couple of tracks, as the show’s star, now knighted Sir Cliff, recalls, ‘Freddie got to record “In
My Defence” for the album much to my chagrin, because the number was one of my favourites – and I’d really wanted to do it
myself – but Dave Clark asked Freddie.’

It opened on 9 April 1986 at the Dominion Theatre, Tottenham Court Road. At this time Clark invited Mercury to dine with Lord
and Lady Olivier; Lord Laurence had a cameo role in the musical in the form of a hologram. Mercury considered the great actor
to be a theatrical legend and jumped at the chance. They met only once but, according to Lady Olivier, she and her husband
knew that Mercury was a regular theatregoer, who had been to many of their productions at London’s National Theatre.

On his best behaviour that night, Mercury felt nervous. But that soon evaporated when he complained to Olivier about the treatment
Queen had received from the music press. Olivier’s
response had been a curt ‘Fuck the critics!’ Recalling that single meeting, Lady Olivier declares Mercury as ‘a most pleasing
and courteous dinner companion’. The show’s reviews were also warm enough, and initially it drew capacity crowds. When Mercury’s
single ‘Time’ was released on 6 May, though, it failed to crack the top three.

Despite Mercury’s complaint about bad reviews, when
A Kind of Magic,
the soundtrack album from
Highlander,
was released at the beginning of June, it charted at number one and eventually went double-platinum. Days later the band
kicked off what would turn out to be their last tour. Called the Magic Tour, it began at the Rasunda Fotbollstadion in Stockholm,
ending two months later with a massive outdoor gig at Knebworth Park in Stevenage, and proved eventful from start to finish.

Because of the criticism they had continued to suffer over Sun City, Queen had issued a press statement the previous December
to the effect that they would never again visit South Africa. Six months on, they were greeted in Sweden by a chanting crowd
of anti-apartheid protestors. Two days later the single, ‘Friends Will Be Friends’ was released; then when the tour reached
France, Jim Hutton surprised his lover by joining him in Paris.

It was also in Paris that Marillion joined the tour. Says lead singer Fish, ‘We’d gone to support Queen on the open-air gigs,
which were to be the last live dates that they’d do.’ Freddie was Freddie and kept himself to himself; a detachment that came
as no surprise to Fish. He explains, ‘To do what we do, we have to be very selfish. Therefore when you’re talking of two solid
cores of selfishness meeting, the odds are remote on you actually relating to somebody and getting to the point where you
want to give something to each other intellectually.’

Marillion continued to support Queen when they arrived for a gig in Mannheim, Germany, where Fish remembers Mercury
coming up with one of his more daft ideas for arriving on stage. ‘It was during the sound check,’ he says, ‘and Fred thought
he’d try going up in a cherry picker – which is one of those enormous crane-type things used for doing up the overhead lights.
So he climbed in, and it got so far up, when he got scared. I’m not surprised, but that was it. He scrapped the whole idea.

‘Freddie was, of course, the most outrageous front man. I watched him a lot during that tour, and I think he made me a little
less self-conscious, simply because of his own performance. He was so cocky and totally self-assured, but then anybody who
walks on a stage to perform in front of crowds of people
has
to have an enormous ego. It’s an incredible feeling of power and satisfaction.

‘There are so many different emotions involved. Some say it’s like sex, others that it’s like standing on top of a tall building
and leaning over. You can’t equate it with anything else, at least nothing that I’ve found so far.

‘Freddie could switch himself on and off, as most people can. If you want to, you can turn on the stage stuff. There’s a mechanism
that you’ve got to learn how to trigger and how to control. Freddie was a master of it.’ That night, Fish ended up on stage
with Queen, dueting with Mercury on ‘Tutti Frutti’ as it was broadcast live on German radio.

On 11 and 12 July Queen returned to the scene of their Live Aid triumph a year before with two sell-out gigs at London’s Wembley
Stadium. The extra date had been added because of the demand for tickets, and both were classic nights. Over the years Mercury
had dazzled fans with his stage wear; antics that he once laughed aside saying, ‘It’s just theatre. I love a nice frock!’
During this tour his outfits, particularly the yellow-buckled jacket with tailored trousers, combined a rock-star look with
a stylish maturity. But for those entertaining any notions that his talent for surprise had died, he was about to prove them
spectacularly wrong.

Ending the final encore with ‘We Are the Champions’, their fans were in a frenzy. In tribute, Mercury punched one fist triumphantly
in the air and spun on his heels off stage. He returned draped in a stunning red velvet silk-lined robe, trimmed with fake
ermine and a six-foot train. Cradling his sawn-off microphone stand as a sceptre, he wore a jewel-encrusted coronation crown
on his head. No other performer could have pulled off such a cheeky stunt – and with such style. He suited the regalia of
an English monarch, and as the audience erupted with delight, he stood with his feet planted firmly apart, proud to receive
their homage, as if he were, indeed, King Mercury. His ensemble was the work of designer Diane Moseley, and although both
the cloak and crown were heavy, Mercury adored wearing them.

Energised by their shows, Queen’s post-Wembley rave at the Roof Garden above Kensington High Street carved a place in the
band’s mythology. Over five hundred guests circulated in the beautiful rooftop restaurant, landscaped like a garden. Celebrity
guests included Sir Cliff Richard, Sam Fox, Fish and Spandau Ballet, who were well acquainted with the band’s reputation for
laying on exotic entertainment. Anticipation was high, and no one was disappointed.

The uniform of every waiter was body paint, the work of German artist Bernd Bauer. Among the other delights laid on for the
guests were a scantily clad woman on duty in the men’s toilets and an equally underdressed gent in the ladies – ready to render
whatever
assistance was asked of them. That night Mercury made a point to be seen publicly with Mary Austin on his arm. Jim Hutton
was nowhere in sight.

Although Mercury had recorded tracks for the album
Time,
he and Cliff Richard had not met until the night of the Roof Garden party: ‘I have to say that previously I’d never been
a fan of Freddie’s in terms of his kind of vocals,’ says Richard, ‘but I certainly admired his ability, including his skill
on the piano, and, of course, he was such an extrovert showman.

‘Just the year before when Queen did Live Aid, although I myself couldn’t take part as I was committed to a gospel charity
gig in Birmingham, I managed to see snatches of the show, and the second I saw Freddie launch into his act it was obvious
that he was going to completely steal the show. When they returned to Wembley during their Magic Tour I couldn’t go to see
them because I was on stage with
Time,
but they invited me to their aftershow party.

‘These kinds of parties are always the same – crowds of people – most of whom spend hours lining up to meet the star for usually
no more than minutes, so it’s not really conducive to getting to know someone.’

Subsequently, Cliff Richard had the opportunity to meet Mercury at smaller gatherings, when, he says, ‘Freddie invited myself
and a group of people to a few of his private parties at his home.’

With a solitary gig in Manchester a few days later, Queen then returned to Europe. By this time fatigue was setting in for
Mercury, and he tried hard to avoid straining his voice. Through Germany and Austria they performed, reaching Hungary for
a gig at Nepstadion in Budapest. Queen played to a capacity crowd with a huge number of ticketless fans hanging around in
vain outside the venue. Mercury had learnt a couple of verses of the traditional folk song ‘Tavaski Szel’, which further endeared
the band to the Hungarian people. Much has since been made of this gig, with claims that Queen’s performance made history
as the first rock show behind the Iron Curtain. Certainly their appearance there would have been historic in terms of their
own careers – but not in rock music. Nineteen years earlier the Rolling Stones had played at the Palace of Culture in Warsaw.

What did become a landmark gig in Queen’s career was the Magic Tour’s final date on 9 August at Knebworth Park, Hertfordshire,
before a crowd of about 200,000. Held in 247
acres of magnificent parkland, against the backdrop of the romantic castellations of Knebworth House, it was to be Queen’s
last live performance. Says Spike Edney, ‘The demand to see Queen had been strong enough to have staged a third night at Wembley,
but that couldn’t be arranged.’ Gerry Stickells had then come up with the suggestion of an outdoor gig at Knebworth. The band
agreed, providing he could guarantee a sell-out crowd.

Several rock groups have performed there, including the Rolling Stones, Frank Zappa and Led Zeppelin. Lady Chryssie Cobbold,
whose family owns the Knebworth estate, remembers Queen as being different from the others: ‘We have often entertained the
groups before,’ she says, ‘during or after their concerts, but in the case of Queen they were not interested in coming up
to the house.’ With Mercury’s passion for grandeur, it was a surprising decision as much as a missed opportunity.