Happy Birthday Brian May!

A very Happy Birthday to Brian May. Let’s put aside titles and doctorates for a second because first and foremost, Bri’ is a musician. And a massively, gigantically important one in my life at that. I thought I’d write down why.

Queen’s debut album was released three days after I was. Both my parents were big fans and I have never known a time when Queen wasn’t part of my existential soundtrack. As Brian’s guitar is a massive part of what Queen “is” at its core, it means that he has been a been a part of my musical DNA from the very first time I can remember listening to music. I also grew up with The Beatles, The Kinks, The Who, Zep, and scores of other bands, but none of them seared themselves onto my consciousness in quite the same way Queen did and nobody’s guitar tone tattooed itself onto my young brain as indelibly as Brian’s. My Dad is a guitarist and has also built/rebuilt a handful of guitars over the years and I remember him telling me when I was very young about how Brian had built his guitar from scratch, from an old fireplace. It became the stuff of legend in my brain and I held it close to myself as something to love and marvel at. It never occurred or mattered to me that the press didn’t universally acclaim the band. I never cared a jot where their singles reached in the chart. I just loved every note deeply and profoundly. And alongside Freddie’s voice, and the thunderous foundation of Roger and John, there was Brian’s guitar, making everything that extra bit (red) special.

When I think back to my childhood, there isn’t a single musician who defined the guitar in my formative years more than Brian May. Not Hendrix, not Jeff Beck, not Clapton or George Harrison, or even Jimmy Page. It was Brian May, with his curly locks and flouncy shirts, and his seemingly alien, supernatural ability to make a chunk of wood and metal make noises that came from another dimension. It could howl, it could bark, and it could softly croon me to sleep. It could sound like Thor’s Hammer and it could sound like a rag time band. It could sound like a raging storm or a full orchestra. It was a melodic force like no other and the most exquisite and elusive of chameleons. Yet it still sounded always and only like Brian May himself, as an extension of his creative will and genius. From Queen to Jazz, that guitar soared like a phoenix, constantly blazing itself to ash, only to rebuild itself and rise again. From The Game to Innuendo, it often hid in plain sight, being the counterpoint to the new directions and flavours that the band was exploring. On Made In Heaven it underlined an emotional farewell and on the Starfleet Project, it let its hair down and told its parents not to wait up for it because it was going out to party with its crazy friend from America. Brian May uses his guitar to its fullest potential maybe more than any other musician I know.

I was asking my podcast listeners today about which performance it would have been that I remember having on VHS when I was young and we’ve landed on the Christmas Eve broadcast from the Odeon in 1974 (thanks Al Dudeney!) I obviously wouldn’t have been old enough to remember the original broadcast, but I definitely remember watching what must have been a repeat. It would have been the first time I saw them actually play live and apart from being in thrall of Freddie’s feline stalking and theatrics, my most distinct memory is of the spotlight falling onto Brian May for his solo in Brighton Rock. It was utterly mesmerizing, hypnotic, and transformative. Once VHS came around and we were able to record/borrow/rewatch this performance, I think that’s the part of the concert I rewound and watched the most often. I still think it’s the live performance of Queen’s I’ve seen more than any other except maybe Live Aid. A small, dark set and Brian, with his flowing white shirt, dualling himself as if the future of humanity depended on his wringing every drop of emotion out of every single note.

Along with his three friends, Brian has given me a lifetime of musical joy and inspiration and has indirectly led me to this incredibly podcast community of brilliant, lovely people. So Brian, thanks for every note and every word sir. From the very bottom of my being, thank you.