November 3, 1978, Pembroke Pines Florida – Hollywood Sportatorium
It had been a quiet morning, perhaps even a little too quiet. The Jazz tour had begun not even a week prior and this was stop number four of a three leg, 79-date show. It was set to finish up in Germany in August. The venue was empty, as Freddie looked overhead to all the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. The hotel for the night was in Miami, approximately twenty or so miles away and the show was ten hours away. The stage had already been prepared and it was time to familiarize with the venue, complete a sound check, and run through portions of the set. Freddie stepped foot onto the stage where John spoke with one of the roadies regarding the technical aspects of the amps. This was John’s area of expertise and nothing about their stage setup would be the same without John’s knowledge and pickiness regarding the technical things.
Freddie carefully traversed the length of the stage before picking up a mike cord and making his same movements with the cord in order to determine exactly how much of it he had. He yawned a few times, reaching a hand up to his neck to ease the soreness he felt. He let out long shouts and more melodious notes despite not being hooked up to any type of microphone or amplification. He had a rather disappointed look on his face.
“Don’t worry. The acoustics will get better once we have you miked up.” One of the members of the road crew said. Freddie wasn’t quite convinced with this logic but nonetheless he continued to roam over the stage, indicate where to mark duck tape X’s and getting a feel for the place. Roger tuned on his kit in silence while Brian connected to one of the amplifiers that already had been set and operational at the side of the stage. He fumbled with a pedal and connected to the amp, letting a few chords resonate. Brian adjusted the volume, turning it up to the level it would be for the night’s performance. Everything he played echoed throughout the drafty, sullen space.
Roger looked up from his tuning as Brian continued to strum away, adjusting his pedal and his strings one by one. He sighed and became sidetracked with a cymbal, which he didn’t quite like in terms of the way it was tilted. He messed with the felt pads that sandwiched his cymbal between them and glanced over at John.
“Brian, I need you to turn down. I’m gettin’ a lot of feedback.” John called to him.
“Huh?” Brian looked to him as John repeated his words. “Oh, yeah, yeah! Sorry. Why don’t you and I bounce some stuff off each other to hear the balance?” Brian suggested which John gladly obliged. There was a tap on Roger’s shoulder.
“Which pedal?” the roadie who frequently and exclusively assisted him asked.
“Huh? Oh, sorry. Um…I’ll start with this one, thanks. Probably switch to that one half-way through the show.
“You got it!” The roadie assured him. He was always so kind and prompt to Roger and in turn Roger was always quite pleasant to him. However, today seemed different. He appeared distracted, maybe pre-occupied or just generally in a foul mood.
“I can’t hear a thing. You gotta’ turn down.” John said to Brian as Freddie continued to walk across the stage, observing the venue from different angles.
“I think it’s just because of your placement. Move downstage.” Brian said, noticing John’s proximity.
“It’s the shitty acoustics.” Roger said, looking over to Brian all the while adjusting the height of the high-hat. Brian turned around to look to him.
“It’s not the acoustics, John’s too far back.” He said, pointing to John.
“John’s not too far back! He’s where he always is. It’s the fuckin’, shitty acoustics.” Roger said, giving Brian quite the menacing look. His tone even alerted Freddie’s attention.
“You haven’t even played a single note. You have no idea what it sounds like in here. At least I’ve given this place a few chances. It’s John it’s not the venue.” Brian said, seeming to be irritated with Roger. Roger stopped what he was doing and threw his hands out to his sides.
“Hello!? I’m elevated, you dipshit! The monitor is right here on my left the way it always is. I just heard you both in it and it sounded like a load of bullshit. It’s the acoustics in this fuckin’ hellhole they call a venue!” Roger spitefully said to Brian. He scowled at Roger.
“Roger, you haven’t played a thing! You don’t know until you play something.” Brian reminded him. John frowned a bit and shot his eyes over to both Brian and Roger as he tuned up his bass some more.
“Hell, I haven’t even gotten this set to the point where I can play anything!” He said, utterly annoyed by Brian at this point. “I’ll give it a fuckin’ shot after I get it assembled but I’m telling you the acoustics in here are shitty and worthless...just like you." Roger mumbled the last part.
"I heard that! Don’t think I didn’t hear that! Boo fuckin' hoo, Roger! What? You gonna' pout like the child you are just because things don't go exactly your way!?" Brian asked, condescendingly.
"Fuck you, Brian!" He hissed at him. It was enough to cause John to stop what he was doing completely.
"Yeah, fuck you too! Just tune your fuckin' kit and I'll say what's too loud and what's not. John, move downstage." Brian demanded, beyond irritated.
"Don't fuckin' tell him what to do! He's fine!" Roger yelled at him. John still hadn’t said anything even though Brian and Roger were….actually, John had no idea why they were at each other like this.
“He’s not fine, Roger! It’s the placement of those amps in the back. He’s getting feedback and I can’t hear him.” Brian continued. Freddie stopped what he was doing and turned around completely, several of the roadies ignoring their banter.
“No wonder! It’s hard to hear anything over the fucking self-righteous noise in your head!” Roger yelled at him.
“Can you not shut your god damn mouth for two seconds? No! You can’t that’s more than obvious! Don’t you talk about me being self-righteous! You, YOU are the self-righteous, hypocrite! You think you are invincible and above any and all consequence!” Brian accused him.
“Don’t you fuckin’ talk to me about consequence! I know quite well what consequences are!” Roger yelled back to him.
“Bull fuckin’ shit! That is the biggest load of garbage I’ve ever heard! You are a slimy fuckin’ bastard, Roger that’s all you are! You are self-absorbed and you’re can’t handle your own choices anymore! YOU are out of control!” Brian took his guitar from around his neck and sat it aside as he moved toward Roger.
“I’m out of control!? I’m bloody out of control!? I’m not the one who had my face buried in some…” Freddie immediately spoke up.
“Hey! Both of you shut the fuck up! We have three more hours in here until we return to the hotel!” he put his hands on his hips and huffed.
“Hey! Don’t you accuse me of somethin’ you don’t know shit about! Since when are you all high and mighty in judgin’ the choices of other people? Huh?” Brian asked, taking another couple steps closer to where Roger’s set was assembled and disregarding Freddie’s warning. “Answer me! Since when in god’s name have you ever given a shit about anyone’s choices unless it affects your own fuckin’ selfish motives! You only own up to anything unless you’ve been found out you fuckin’ liar! You are such a fuckin’ liar!”
“You take that back! You fuckin’ take that back, Brian!” Roger could feel his temper soaring completely out of control. “ I don’t lie about anything!” Brian laughed rather mockingly at him.
“Ooooh no, Roger! You’d never fuckin’ lie about anythin’! Why the hell lie about it when you can lie on top of it? That’s the best kind of lying you do, isn’t it?” Brian raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. He shook his head, still laughing his rather disrespectful laugh at Roger. It was enough to send Roger right over the edge. Without a second thought, he sent a bass drum flying toward the front edge of the stage, nearly taking Freddie out in his wake of irate fury.
