Radio Ga Ga
"I'd sit alone, and watch your light - My only friend, through teenage nights.
And everything, I had to know - I heard it on my radio"
The opening lyrics of Queen's fabulous song, Radio Ga Ga. I heard it this weekend for the first time in many years as it came up on a random play on my I-Pod during a long run on a treadmill. So many memories rushed back at me...............
The first was of the night I saw Queen in February, 1977 at the Toledo Sports Arena. I remember it vividly; the drive down from Michigan, the amped and fueled crowd, the absolutely electric effect the staccatoed, opening chords of Keep Yourself Alive had on the crowd. No one, not even Mick Jagger, commanded and entertained a live audience like Queen front-man Freddie Mercury. Jagger's performances, though spectacular, were more scripted and contrived. Mercury's were more spontaneous and audience-connecting. So enormous was his talent that it surged over and through him, flowing out to the audience; no more to be restrained than the tide.
The combination of his nova-like talent and visually stunning appearance morphed into a charismatic on-stage presence. Songs like Killer Queen, Seven Seas of Rhye, Bohemian Rhapsody, Year of 39, Under Pressure, Tie Your Mother Down, and so many others captivated a generation of listeners at the very point of transition from the blues/rock based British invasion, to the more techno-pop driven sounds of the 70's. Of all the lead men who performed in this era of unrivaled musical production, Mercury was by far the most accomplished singer. His song-writing - building contemporary themes on a foundation of classical piano traning - was the brains and his voice the brawn that drove Queen to three hundred million albums sold, and a secure place on Rock's Mount Olympus.
The second memory I had was of Mercury crooning the words of Radio Ga Ga to a packed Wembley Stadium in Bob Geldof's 1985 production - Live Aid. From the moment he walked on stage in white Levis, a white muscle shirt and bicep-band, and white guitar, he held the crowd in the palm of his hand, orchestrating their swaying and clapping like some enormous musical puppet-master. Anyone watching the show knew that he achieved what entertainers and public speakers call "projection" - an intimate connection with a large and expansive audience. After less than a thirty minute set, the world had what is regarded by many as the greatest live performance in rock history.
But the song so grabbed my attention on the treadmill because I had forgotten the lyrics, evocative and wistful, wishing for a simpler time and bemoaning music's passing from an audio to a visually driven media:
"We watch the shows, we watch the stars - On Video, for hours and hours
We hardly need to use our ears - How music changes through the years".
Even as I ran and listened, one of the TV's at the health club was as always, tuned to a music video station, cranking out its endless array of cheap and tawdry productions; no more than a menu of gyrating hard-bodies and ever more outrageous costumes. I wondered if Aretha Franklin, one of the most gifted singer/performers of my generation, could make it today. She was super-cool and fabulously gifted, but certainly less than a beauty. No - the Queen of Soul would not have done well in visual media; to her credit she probably would not have cared. Drummer Roger Taylor and Mercury wrote Radio Ga Ga in the early 80's, when MTV was just hitting its stride. I wondered what they might think of what I was watching here in the good old 21st Century.
Music has always been an extraordinarily powerful component of our culture, and most particularly with our young people. The ancient Greeks loved music - but warned of its hypnotic ability to hold sway over human emotions. Imagine their thoughts had they been able to conceive of the added power of the visual tsunami that now accompanies it. I am an audiophile and listen to music regularly, but the attendant claptrap that is now accompanying current releases is all but drowning our imaginations in a sea of muck and mire.
The last memories the song evoked for me was of the role radio has played in my life - before the endless parade of stultifying visual technology. I thought of the old Philco clock radio in my room, with the "flip-over" numerals instead of digital numbers. I thought of nights spent listening to the fabulous Eddie Doucette call those late night, west coast Bucks' games, and my Dad gently telling me to go to sleep. I thought of college; waking up to WJR in Detroit - "the great voice of the Great Lakes". And at night, listening to WRIF and its hilarious D.R.E.A.D. program - Detroit Rockers Engaged in the Abolition of Disco. I thought of listening to all the greats of that era as they poured out through the radio, and having to capture for myself the imagery the artist might have intended, rather than having it forced upon my weary eyes.
On November 23, 1991 Freddie Mercury announced what was widely assumed to be true - that he had the AIDS virus. He died in suburban London the very next day.
But his voice still reverberates...........
"Radio it's true.................Someone still loves you"
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