Queen A Night At The Opera

Another Queenie. A Night At The Opera was arguably the first Queen LP to really elicit the attention of the music-buying public. Their fourth album, it was a commercial watershed for the band, helped in no small measure by the single Bohemian Rhapsody. Yes, we’ve all probably heard it a zillion times by now, but back in 1975, the idea of releasing a six-minute rock opera as a single sounded like commercial suicide. Well, the doubters were proven wrong and Bohemian Rhapsody went on to become one of the biggest selling singles in British chart history, a mainstay at the top of Greatest X Songs of all Time lists and the main ingredient of a memorable scene in the film Wayne’s World. Because of all the airplay, track 11 on A Night At The Opera is very much the elephant in the room that no-one notices. It remains a great song, but it is by no means the only great song on the album.

A Night At The Opera is a stylistically diverse album. As I mentioned in my previous Queen review, listeners familiar with only the hits will be surprised to discover the gems the band had hidden away as album tracks. All four members of the band contribute songs, with five Freddie Mercury and four Brian May compositions present, and one each from bassist John Deacon and drummer Roger Taylor.

The high camp of English music hall had an appeal for the flamboyant Mr Mercury, and the vaudeville element he brought to Queen’s sound (especially on the previous Queen hit, Killer Queen) is expanded on here, particularly on the jaunty, cheeky, piano-based romps Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon and Seaside Rendezvous, the former sounding like something you’d expect to hear wafting from granddad’s old gramophone. Also on offer from Freddie is the rocking opener Death On Two Legs (a rather nasty missive to an ex-manager) and a gorgeous ballad, Love of My Life, which was to become a live favourite.

Not to be outdone, May also has some tricks up his sleeve. His sci-fi folksong, ’39, with its layered acoustic guitars and vocals (which May himself provides), is one of the hidden delights of the Queen catalogue. The Prophet’s Song, written while recovering from fever is a quasi-biblical epic that vies with Bo-Rhap as the highlight of the album; its a capella middle section, which features three Freddies chanting back and forth (thanks to reverb), is quite amazing to listen to, and proof that Mercury’s voice really was an instrument unto itself. May even has a go at a vaudeville piece of his own, Good Company, which is remarkable for its turn-of-the-century jazz-band sound – clarinets, saxophones, trombones, etc – played entirely on his homemade electric guitar (he uses his dad’s old ukulele for rhythm); his technical prowess guarantees it one of the most entertaining tracks on the album. Finally, the guitarist crowns the album in true regal style with a multi-tracked instrumental of G-d Save The Queen.

As for the remaining two band members, Taylor serves up another fat slab of rawk in the form of I’m In Love With My Car, while Deacon provides the pop classic You’re My Best Friend. Even on these comparably more conventional tunes, the hallmarks of the Queen sound – the multi-tracked backing vocals and May’s guitar wizardry – raise them high above the average in 1970s pop/rock.

The more one digs into the Queen catalogue, the more riches are to be discovered. The Darkness are pretenders; Queen is king.

This review was published, with minor alterations, in Craccum, Issue 23, 2006