Last night I went to Rock City to see a band called Queen Extravaganza, a tribute to the music of Queen by a band that had been formed by Roger Taylor and Brian May. I was writing it up for The Nottingham Evening Post (as I still call it), and a version of this blog appears online today with a version I edited down appearing in the newspaper on Monday (no doubt with a few additional bits of sub-editor butchery). With the dreadfully unprofessional way I was treated earlier in the week by the Capital FM Arena still fresh in my mind, I was armed with an email confirmation that I ended up not needing as I was handed a guest pass and a photo pass without argument. It would appear that Rock City have learned how to deal with guest lists at last, having as they do a hit-and-miss record on this matter.

Here is a longer account based on what I scribbled down in my notebook:

Some rock bands never go away, some rock bands refuse to. Ever since the sad death of Freddie Mercury in 1991 we have been ‘treated’ to compilations, rare unreleased tracks, collaborations with boy bands, a musical, a tour that allowed Paul Rogers to prove that he doesn’t have the vocal range to cut the mustard as Freddie’s replacement, and a tape recording of Freddie reading aloud from the Yellow Pages. I made the last one up but you get the idea, because now thanks to the combined efforts of Brian May and Roger Taylor (John Deacon retired with dignity) we have the latest venture to keep the Queen name alive, or squeeze even more money out of it depending on your point of view, a Queen tribute band.

To refer to it as a tribute band actually sells it short and lumps it in with that much derided but inexplicably popular form of entertainment. Queen Extravaganza is the brainchild of May and Taylor, presumably with one eye on the not too distant future when they can’t cope with the rigours of touring. Everybody loves Queen of course, myself included, but I entered the venue with trepidation, this would be brilliant or it would be the final act of pissing on Freddie’s grave.

Brian May and Roger Taylor held auditions for the band following announcements on various social media outlets, and they attended the final stages themselves so they cannot be accused of masterminding this project by remote control.

Rock City was full but not uncomfortably so, proving that classic rock, although never fashionable, will never go out of fashion. If you know what I mean.

Cheers filled the air as the band took their places; the first moment of relief was that this wasn’t a cabaret act with a curly Brian wig and a stick on moustache on the Freddie-alike. The second moment of relief was the fact that they were musically brilliant. Kicking off with ‘Tie Your Mother Down’ they performed as if the songs were their own and they had been performing them their whole life. Every word was sung back to them because obviously we all know these words.

When a covers band is put together by half of the original members, you know that this isn’t going to be some fly-by-night pub act.

As I’ve said before, this wasn’t one of those awful fancy dress bands, if you’d never heard of Queen you would fall in love with these songs from scratch. The lead singer was the closest thing to the late Mr. Bulsara that we could achieve. Similar in looks and mannerisms, posing and posturing in that much missed way without drifting into hack Stars in Their Eyes territory. Taking to the piano on occasions and of course the acoustic guitar for ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’, on top of leading a rousing version of the legendary audience-sing-along ‘Love of My Life’, he was Freddie.

Singing along to every word and of course doing the iconic ‘clap-clap-stretch to ‘Radio Ga Ga’, the audience was witnessing the next best thing among Queen fans. For people like myself who were too young to have seen the original band live, the franchise has been passed along in style and there is plenty of life (and doubtless, cash) in those old songs yet.. Please don’t fuck it up.

All photographs © Tasha Shipston

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