Summer Of '75 (Roger Taylor/Queen)

Chapter 11

Roger's P.O.V.

My head drooped down as I sat at my drumkit in the corner of the recording room, the sticks I was holding becoming limp in my hands as my eyes became heavier and heavier. The headphones on my head blocked out noise elsewhere, making it easier for me to drift off to sleep without being interrupted. All I wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for the rest of the day, which I would have done, had I not been physically dragged out of it by my bandmates. I had a splitting headache, the loud grunting of Brian's guitar in the background only making it worse - I was really in no fit state to be doing this.

I wondered how Amelia was feeling today too. Her car wasn't parked outside so I assumed she went to work. I hope she can remember more of last night than I can, as I can't remember a thing. She was definitely coping with her hangover better than I was with mine, that's for sure.

My daze was suddenly cut short when I felt my headphones being ripped off my head and the figure of someone standing beside me. I opened my tired eyes to see a very angry Freddie looking down at me.

'Hello?! Earth to Roger?! I've been saying your name for the last minute and a half.' Freddie shouted at me, 'We need to record this drum track. Today. That's not going to happen if you keep dozing off half way through it! I know you're feeling under the weather - we all know why that is - but you need to be competent. Capisce?'

I nodded sighing, 'Alright, understood.'

Freddie gave me one last glare before making his way back up the steps to control booth, leaving me sitting there rubbing my face, still struggling to keep myself awake. I glanced up at John would was sitting just a few metres in front of me, tuning his bass. He looked up at me with a sympathetic smile.

'Don't take Freddie's bad mood personally. He's been snapping at all of us this morning.' he told.

I nodded, 'Yeah, I noticed.'

'I'm guessing you had fun last night? Maybe too much fun, judging by the state of you.' John smirked.

'I did - well, at least I think I did. It's all a bit of a blur, really. And what do you mean 'judging by the state' of me? I wasn't that drunk...was I?' I defended.

'Roger, when you came back to our room, you crashed onto my bed, thinking it was yours. You landed on top of me and almost crushed me. So, yes, you were that drunk.' Brian stopped playing his guitar and piped in, to which John reacted to in a fit of laughter.

I looked down at the floor, extremely embarrassed, but soon retorted, 'Why are you complaining? That's probably the closest you've been to having someone in your bed in a long time.'

Brian scowled at me, unamused by my comment which I tried my best not to laugh at myself. He looked like he was about to retaliate with an insult of his own but our bickering was brought to an end by Freddie speaking over the intercom, his voice sounding through the speakers and filling the barn.

'If you ladies could stop talking about what you do at night when you share a room together and actually get something done, that would be great.' he sassed.

'Yeah, Brian.' I said in a mocking tone, putting my sunglasses and headphones on, before beginning to warm up on my drums.

'Don't be so childhish.' I heard Brian growl at me, which made me snigger. God, it was so easy to wind him up.

Once we'd started behaving like adults again and I'd managed to stay awake for long enough, we finally got some recording done. The four of us were great workers, normally. When we weren't touring, we spent almost every second in the studio working our asses off; holidays weren't something we were granted regularly. Anyway, the drum track had finally been laid down - when Freddie was happy with it, that was. Fortunately, once I'd delivered a good enough take, so his bad mood from before soon fizzled out. Deciding to take a break, we all regrouped in the control booth, John and Brian sitting on the couch at the back whilst Freddie and I sat on two of the chairs at the mixing desk. Our sound engineer, Mike, left the room as he needed to talk to Frank, meaning we were left alone to converse.