Bibek Acharya
Like Johnny Marr, Nils Lofgren, and the many who came before, Brian May has earned a title as one of the few true “ringers” of music. Despite finding his footing in the legendary band Queen, May has built a career and reputation based on his independent talent, earning a timeless appeal that makes anything he’s a part of feel infinitely more special. Even alongside Benson Boone at Coachella. As a cardboard cutout.
The point is that May’s presence is felt, even when he’s not physically there. Wherever Queen’s music plays, May exists as a palpable energy, his unmistakable riffing a part of the liveliness of the music’s lasting appeal like a beating heart. And when he is physically present, it’s likely the room he’s in illuminates in colours never before seen or felt, like catching magic in action, even years on.
While there’s no textbook on how, exactly, to accrue such a label, some, like Marr, have attempted to shed light on it over the years. According to Marr, people like Lofgren could pivot their careers and gain respect by proving themselves in multiple spaces beyond what they became known for. Much like he did post-The Smiths, Marr continued his trajectory after Queen, collaborating with artists on several projects and live performances to extend the excitement beyond his “peak” years.
For Marr, however, making the transition wasn’t just momentarily appealing; it was necessary for him to navigate the “shitstorm” that was The Smiths’ breakup and embark on a career himself, positively hotwiring off of his success in the band without finding himself restricted to their legacy only. As for May, finding his way outside of Queen followed a similar pattern, though with less friction and more tragedy.
This bittersweetness is also what makes him one of the biggest-ever Queen fans. May might naturally feel an innate fondness for the years they collectively disrupted contemporary rock, knowing that there exist many reasons for their inclusion in many aspects of modern culture beyond just his guitar playing, but he also feels a proximity as a mere music lover, making it known at any possible opportunity.
One of the many reasons for this was Freddie Mercury’s songwriting. In May’s eyes, Mercury could coast the delicate line between intimate and sentimental, leaving just enough room for the audience to place themselves into his own narratives while enjoying the frames of his personal experience. It was a balancing act, but one that Mercury pulled off effortlessly, most notably with the song ‘It’s A Hard Life’.
“To my mind, this is one of the most beautiful songs that Freddie ever wrote,” May said in the notes for 2003’s Greatest Video Hits 2. He continued, “It’s straight from the heart, and he opened up during the creation of it. I sat with him for hours and hours and hours, just pouring out every word and trying to get the most out of it. It’s a very revealing thing about how relationships are, and he was talking about his relationship.”
Describing it as one of his “loveliest songs”, May felt endeared to the track because it showed exactly who Mercury was beneath the perceived exterior, which was just a music lover like himself who felt things probably more acutely than any other musician in history. In many ways, that’s why Queen—and May—push on, with a fervour based on charged emotion, even when they’re not physically seen.
