Freddie Mercury and the lost art of the rock frontman

The 25th anniversary of the passing of Freddie Mercury coincided with the year-end lists of the music press. The NME, bucking the trend elsewhere for David Bowie’s Blackstar, opted for The 1975’s album I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it (not a title Led Zep ever considered).

The NME’s Dan Stubbs writes of the band’s show at Chicago’s Aragon Ballroom: “For much of it, the band are silhouettes: great for fans of visual art, not so much for anyone who’s there to gaze at (singer Matt) Healy’s face.”

Contrast this with Freddie Mercury, whose most memorable live performance was his day sharing a line-up with many of rock’s alpha males at Live Aid. Everyone from David Bowie to Bono was left in the shade by the man in the white vest and jeans throwing out call and response “Daaay-ohh”s to 80,000 musical floating voters. 21 minutes later, pretty much every single one became fully paid-up members of the Queen fan club.

This is pointed out, not to pick holes at Healy, a promising and versatile songwriter. It’s not fair to demand that The 1975’s creative fulcrum compete with Mercury for stage presence.

No one can.

Mercury was classically trained, worked at Kensington Market when it was the centre of London’s hippie and bohemian culture, and had the good luck, or judgement, to be in a band with three other accomplished songwriters.

He emerged in an era where the rock frontman worked hard for the audience’s attention. Biting the head of live bats or draping yourself in snakes, as Ozzy Osbourne and Alice Cooper respectively did, was what was expected if you were fronting a live rock’n’roll show.

Nowadays, you’re lucky if the lead singer exchanges a grunt with the audience.

Damon Albarn concedes that the Gorillaz headlining performance at Glastonbury didn’t catch fire “because I didn’t talk to the audience.” Matt Bellamy hadn’t learnt this lesson by Muse’s 2016 set.

Mercury never really needed to explain to any audience member who saw him marshall a stadium crowd why they called him Mr. Fahrenheit. What is apparent 25 years after his death, is how few singers have learnt from what made him special, in rock at least.

The lead stars in R’n’B like Justin Timberlake, Usher and Bruno Mars, have to be bandleaders, vocalists of range and move not just like Jagger but Gene Kelly and Michael Jackson too.

Pop’s Robbie Williams does not have Mercury’s range (few do) but he has at least watched videos and has some understanding of the patter which made the Queen frontman click with audiences.

In rock, you’re lucky if you get a “Hello Wembley.”

Leaders of today’s groups sit behind their guitar in a war of attrition, like Dave Grohl or James Hetfield, or bring their kids on stage like Chris Martin. Some (Gene Simmons, Marilyn Manson or Slipknot’s Corey Taylor) use the crutch of make up or masks.

Charismatic rock frontmen are currently at a premium. Little wonder that AC/DC had to draft in golden oldie Axl Rose from the Guns N Roses bench for their last stadium tour when Brian Johnson was ruled out for match fitness.

After The Desert trip set (Jagger, Daltrey, McCartney etc) retire – it will happen one day- the question of who replaces them will intensify.

No one is asking Alex Turner of the Arctic Monkeys, Ed Sheeran or Marcus Mumford to hoover in a leather mini-skirt for one of their videos, record a three-disc album with Spanish soprano Montserrat Caballe, throw parties where their manager is invoiced for 232 broken glasses, or don a unitard. No one certainly is waiting for them to write songs as pleasantly deranged but legendary as Bohemian Rhapsody, Seven Seas of Rhye or Killer Queen. Queen’s singer was a one-off, whoever Brian May and Roger Taylor draft in to sing the band’s songs.

Today’s era for musicians to make their mark is admittedly tougher. Freddie Mercury didn’t have to compete with smartphones, streaming services which slash songwriting royalties, unjustifiable booking fees, secondary ticket agencies skewing the market or selfie sticks.

So all the more reason, any singer for a contemporary band hoping they’ll be discussed in 2041 should watch a video of Freddie Mercury at Live Aid, take some notes, take a few risks and try a bit harder.