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Day 365: Queen – A Night At The Opera

28 Feb


First of all, I need to make a statement, and that statement is as follows: If you don’t like Queen, there is something wrong with you.

Second on our agenda, I’d like to send a big old “thank you” to my dad.  I informed him of my need to listen to a band for every letter of the alphabet, and he used his final Dad Rock Tuesday pick to help fulfill that obsessive-compulsive desire.  Selfless.

Thirdly, I realize that today is Day 365.  I know that I’ve alluded to this very moment for ages, and, yeah, the site’s tagline is still “365 days, 365 albums.”  However, I’d hate myself forever if I passed up the opportunity to post on Leap Day. Yup, you’re going to have another one of these to get through tomorrow.  You can do it — I believe in you.

Now, without further ado, I present to you . . .

Today’s post.

You know things are kind of messed up when you can begin listening to a Queen record, and—without irony—think to yourself that it sounds a whole lot like Foxy Shazam.  For once, I must give my father props.  Whether he realized it or not, he did some serious ejuhmuhkatin’ with his pick this week.

See, I’ve never listened to a full Queen record before. Sure, I had one of those Greatest Hits comps on my iPod Mini seven years ago, but we all know those don’t (usually) count.  Between that and a few viewings of Ella Enchanted, I thought I knew Queen.  Pshh.

It’s great to hear something like A Night At The Opera because it really gives a much better picture of the band and its music than any singles collection ever could.  Most of these songs weren’t tailored for the radio, and Queen takes a few artistic liberties that I never would have expected.  Whether busting out a ukulele, or putting on minute-long, song-ending, falsetto-filled acapella sections, Mercury and company never fail to keep things . . . interesting. No, it doesn’t all work, but the faults definitely don’t outweigh the triumphs on A Night at the Opera. It’s both the successes and failures that give records their personalities, and make us listen to the exact same 40-or-so minutes of music again and again and again.

And now, Bohemian Rhapsody has begun.  Words escape me.  Once again, if you don’t love this glorious cheese rock, there’s something very wrong with you.  I mean, any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me. Tooooo meeeeeeeee…