Stars in Your Eyes (Queen/Roger Taylor)

12. Roger

Can we all just take a moment to appreciate Roger's abs here? (And also whatever is going on in Deaky's pants 👀).

**

Sunbury Festival, January 27, 1974

We're halfway through 'Ogre Battle' when I realize that this gig is doomed.

In retrospect, I should have realized it much earlier in the day when we discovered that Brian could barely move his left arm, and Freddie had a vicious ear infection. They'd both been given antibiotics and paracetamol, but the doctor hadn't seemed confident that either would help in the short-term. He'd shook our manager's hand cheerfully and walked out, shouting "Good luck, mate!" over his shoulder.

If that weren't enough to convince me that the show was cursed, then the festival emcee's introduction should have made it even more apparent. He called us a bunch of stuck-up pommies, just before he dropped his trousers and stuck his arse up in the crowd's direction. Not really the warm welcome that one wants, but maybe it's Australian humor, and the audience is laughing with us?

But I'm jetlagged as fuck, so I don't realize that the writing's on the wall until the middle of our fourth song.

It's a bloody scorcher of a day, and we're playing outdoors to a massive crowd of drunk Aussies who hate us. Freddie is working double-time to change their minds, belting out the high notes like a champ and prancing around like a maniac. I play furiously, trying to keep the beat even as Brian keeps trying to speed up, likely trying to finish this fucking set before his arm falls off.

After a few songs, our efforts start to pay off. The crowd gets into it, the boos and jeers turning into appreciative whistles and claps. For a brief moment, I allow myself to think that maybe everything will be okay. It won't be a great gig, that's for sure, but perhaps it'll be a mediocre one that we can have a laugh about on the flight home.

But then things start to go further downhill.

Brian plays the opening chords to 'Jailhouse Rock,' but Freddie fails to come in with the vocals. We vamp for a few moments until finally, we hear those reassuring words: The warden threw a party in the county jail! The prison band was there and they began to wail!

Except for the fact that Freddie is way off-key. I squint over at him, noticing that he's moving a bit strange as if he's dizzy. He walks closer to me and puts one foot up on the drum riser to orient himself as he continues to sing.

"You alright, Fred?" I lean away from my mic as I shout over the music.

He shakes his head slightly and looks at me with helpless eyes just before he turns back to the audience. I glance over to Brian, who is also following Freddie's movements with worried eyes. What the bloody hell is happening? Brian steps forward to play his guitar solo, and I see that he's not doing too well, either. He's the master of putting on a brave face, but the fact that he's in pain is unmistakable.

So, here we are with a singer who can barely stand, a guitarist who can scarcely play his instrument, and a crowd of jeering aresholes.

And then, just when I think the situation can't get worse, a section of the lighting rig crashes into the stage just behind me.

I'm so startled that I nearly fall off my stool, lunging towards the bass drum to steady myself and nearly upsetting the entire kit. Once I've managed to right myself--only missing a few beats, I might add--I glare over to our crew who are standing helplessly in the wings. The lead roadie is shouting something at his local counterpart, whereas my drum technician stands there staring at me with wide, horrified eyes.