Freddie Mercury: The Biography

by Laura Jackson

  More serious than being shown up on live TV was the fact that Ethancourt did die later that night, a development that plunged the country into mourning. Airports closed, stranding Queen, with their gigs cancelled, in the middle of a politically inflammatory situation. The country was ripe for revolution, and it was easy to believe the tales of how people – especially foreigners – just vanished off the streets. There was great relief when the airport reopened, allowing the band to fly back to safety.

  After this the three forthcoming Mexican dates, due to start on 9 October, were not very appealing. Their nerves were still jangling when during the first of the gigs, at the Estadion Universitano in Monterey, the audience began pelting them relentlessly with rubbish. Boots, bottles and batteries rained down on Queen. The band remained on stage for one of their most energetic performances, as Mercury, Deacon and May darted from side to side to avoid flying missiles. Roger Taylor, although further back, was a static target behind his drums and particularly at risk.

  Fleeing off stage at the end of the show, they felt dejected by the worst reception of their careers. They were astounded, then, when gleeful officials came over to congratulate them. Apparently the crowd’s behaviour was the traditional show of appreciation. Of the two remaining Puebla dates, they played only the first, as tax complications meant they would not get paid. It was the excuse they needed, and the band boarded a flight for New York, vowing never to set foot in Mexico again.

  Although Queen first formed in 1970 with Mercury, Taylor, May and Mike Grose, the band chose to consider themselves complete only when John Deacon joined the following year. Consequently, they designated 1981 as their official tenth anniversary, and in the last months of the year launched a series of special releases to mark the occasion. Each featured a specially commissioned portrait of the band by the Earl of Snowdon.

  Greatest Flix was a novel compilation of all the videos for Queen’s singles since ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, followed by Greatest Pix, a book of photographs compiled by Jacques Lowe, and the Greatest Hits album. Ten years on, only three other albums had spent longer in the charts: Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell and the soundtrack of The Sound of Music. Queen rounded off their celebrations with two gigs at the Forum in Montreal. These concerts were filmed for possible release as a feature film of the band the following summer.

  By early December Mercury had returned to Munich, ostensibly to continue work on Queen’s new album. But the emphasis for him really lay more on spending time at clubs such as the Sugar Shack, a favourite haunt of the band’s. Mercury was ready to plunge back into the so-called ‘Bermuda Triangle’ of the city’s crowded gay scene. With its wealth of venues, he found the atmosphere there more relaxed and open than in London. And the places he enjoyed the most were the bars and clubs that drew an interesting mix of straight and gay people.

  Mercury had found an apartment in Munich and installed his retinue of attendants there to ensure his life ran smoothly. Paul Prenter always accompanied him through the chaos of the nightclubs and witnessed first-hand the extent of Mercury’s hedonistic indulgence. Relentless partying required a lot of stamina, and Mercury was using cocaine heavily just to make it through the night.

  His evenings out were planned very precisely. Dressed to kill, he would go by chauffeur-driven limo to a club with his bodyguard and personal assistants. Once outside the venue, someone would go in to survey the scene and report back to Mercury, before he himself would enter the premises. Once inside, it was often bedlam. The place would be heaving and boisterous anyway, but Mercury was like a gigantic magnet, and his presence would instantly crank up the tension.

  His worldwide fame had its drawbacks. As one of the most famous faces on the gay circuit, he was undoubtedly exploited for who he was. Yet Mercury was well aware of this and could turn it to his advantage when he wanted. If nothing else, it guaranteed a greater number of men willing to go home with him.

  Someone who can corroborate this is the only woman, apart from Mary Austin, to occupy a special place in Mercury’s heart. German actress Barbara Valentin was to meet Mercury one night in a Munich disco called New York. Herself a cult figure, closely associated with her work for film director Rainer Werner Fassbinder, she was popular in gay circles.

  ‘I was standing in a crowd, and Freddie was close by, surrounded by friends and with his bodyguards hovering around,’ recalled Valentin. ‘I knew who he was, but we had never met, except maybe to nod and say hello in passing. Well, this particular night everyone was jostling about as usual, and Paul Prenter walked accidentally into my burning cigarette, and he turned on me and started shouting and swearing at me. I told him to watch where he was going and turned away. A little later he came back to apologise and introduce himself, so I said who I was.

  ‘Next day Paul and I met for dinner, alone, and as we talked we realised that we saw each other’s crowd something like at least three times a week in the same places. A few days later back at the same disco, Freddie and I then met. Nobody introduced us as such. We just sort of came together.’

  According to Barbara, from that first moment they clicked. ‘I adored him,’ she said. ‘We fitted together absolutely instantly, and we never separated for three whole days. He stayed at my house, I went to the studio with him, and we went out to the clubs together. We talked all the time, and Freddie told me, “My God! Finally I can talk to someone who understands the real me and what I want to do with my life.” That was something he was needing badly.’

  It is clear that Mercury found something very different with Valentin to the long-standing bond he continued to have with Mary Austin. Certainly it seems that the fun-loving actress’s complete and natural understanding of his homo-sexuality filled some kind of gaping void in him. At any rate he rapidly developed a unique and tender relationship with Valentin, which spanned several years, and which she found difficult to define.

  ‘We had an amazing time together whenever he was in Munich,’ she said, ‘and just like that first time, sometimes we’d spend days on end never parting. I loved him, I still love him, and he loved me. It was a once in a lifetime thing between us, so special. I wouldn’t want it to happen again. I’m only grateful that it came to me once.’

  Valentin and Mercury both adored nightclubs, and on many occasions visited the Bermuda Triangle together. Valentin saw just how many men, looking for rich pickings, homed in on the superstar the second he walked through the door. But Mercury was nobody’s fool. He was a man who did nothing he didn’t want to do. Playing the game, however, he enjoyed stringing along a few men at a time; then later, much to their delight, he would invite them back home.

  At his flat, though, the tables turned as Mercury indulged in one of his favourite games. His groupies were to strip naked and parade before him in nothing but a selection of women’s hats. His taste continued to lie in large-built men, and he would select his bedmate and summarily dismiss the others. His sex drive, possibly drug-propelled, still bordered on the unquenchable. Inevitably, as 1982 approached, his liaison with live-in lover Tony Bastin, who had flown to be with him in Munich, was rapidly heading for the rocks.

  TEN

  Cutting Up Rough

  By January 1982 Queen realised that more discipline was necessary to pull together their new album. For a time they worked daily at Musicland Studios. Business of another kind, too, had to be transacted when Queen’s EMI contract for the UK and Europe came up for renewal in the spring. Their association had proved immensely fruitful, and on 1 April it was cemented further to include the band’s next six albums.

  The following day war broke out between Britain and Argentina over sovereignty of the Falkland Islands. A sideshow to the issue was the Argentine authorities’ ban on Queen performing in their country for the duration of the conflict. ‘Under Pressure’ was currently topping their charts and, unamused, they instantly banned it from the airwaves. When asked to comment on the war Mercury replied, ‘It’s our young men killing their
young men. There’s no glory in being blown to bits.’

  A week later Queen embarked on the first of their touring commitments that would span the next eight months. By the time they arrived in France, their latest single ‘Body Language’ had been released, reaching only number twenty-five in the UK charts. This coolness by the fans was also reflected at performances. Perhaps too much time had recently been spent in Munich’s clubland, for the band seemed unduly influenced by the unchallenging funky disco sound.

  Experimenting with rhythmic rock was the official line, but loyal fans refused to be pacified. They could only be further upset when the album Hot Space finally emerged on 21 May.

  Gone was the hard-rock edge, gone, too, was the familiarity of Brian May’s dominant guitar work; replaced by the much disliked synthesiser. May himself wasn’t keen on the album, and, in an unusual step, he publicly admitted as much. Possibly to boost this dip in their popularity, on 10 June, for the first time in five years, Queen appeared on Top of the Pops, performing their new release ‘Las Palabras de Amor (The Words of Love)’.

  By this time their UK/Euro tour had come to an end. There was now a decent break before they were due to go on the road again, and Mercury rushed back to Munich. His strained relationship with Tony Bastin was now at an end. They remained friends and even occasional lovers in the years ahead but never again lived together. It wasn’t long, however, before there was another man in Mercury’s life, Winnie Kirkenberger, a handsome German restaurateur. They had met in a bar, and Kirkenberger’s looks very much fitted the stereotype of Mercury’s ideal lover.

  It is said that initially Kirkenberger did not realise who Mercury was until someone tipped him off. He was, in any case, hugely unimpressed. The story goes that when the time came to leave the bar together that first night, Mercury had announced that he had a car and chauffeur waiting. Winnie is said to have replied that he didn’t give a shit, that he was walking home, and if Mercury wanted to be with him, he’d have to walk too. This butch display supposedly thrilled Mercury, allowing him to feel he was liked for himself and not his fame. But, it is a scenario that is hard to accept.

  By 1982 Freddie Mercury was a superstar, one of rock’s most distinctive figures. The gay scenes of London, New York and Munich had dominated his private life for the last five years. Among those of his stratum of homosexual subculture, he was probably the most sought-after conquest. Just a rumour of his imminent arrival could be enough to create a buzz of anticipation, and at times his entrance into a club would stop the show. It defies belief that anyone from this social world could not have known Mercury.

  The suggestion, too, that Mercury might have believed the old ploy of not being recognised – and so wanted purely for himself – doesn’t fit his character. One of the many aspects of Mercury’s make-up was that he was a thinker and a manipulator. He admitted that he enjoyed being in love, but that didn’t mean he was a soft touch. The star was never too weak, as has been suggested, to make choices when it came to his personal life. For all his devotion to Mary Austin, and the claims that he yearned for a family of his own, he was able to sever that part of their bond that could have brought marriage and stability. He exchanged their secure heterosexual love for his desire to lead a full homosexual existence.

  Even his choice of men, the rough tough type, seems significant. In public he was so flamboyant and loud, it is too facile to claim that he sought to be dominated in his private life. But it was his own way of domineering, the fact that he was always the more powerful in his relationships because his fame and wealth gave him the edge over the type of men he preferred, those with much less money and power than him. He also chose men who were not especially well educated, which was perhaps another way of ensuring he kept control, something very important to Mercury.

  Reinholdt Mack came to believe, for all the star’s sexual activity, that he was ultimately dissatisfied with his gay lifestyle. According to Mack, Mercury seriously considered giving up on his homosexuality and going straight. If that were so, it is also indicative of the strength of his willpower. In any event, and however it began, Mercury’s relationship with Winnie Kirkenberger, although far from monogamous, would span the next three years.

  The next tour was mid-July, another of those gruelling Canadian/US trips that involved playing almost every night, in nearly every state and with frequent wild parties. Now thirty-six, Mercury admitted that he was beginning to dislike this kind of hectic schedule. In contrast to his days of painted fingernails and elaborate posturing in saucy leotards, his stage act had become more energetic. For the entire show he would repeatedly rush the length and breadth of the stage, up and down open flights of stairs. It was an extremely draining performance.

  His tour preparation now focused almost as much on being physically fit as musically tight. The financial incentive, too, had gone. Said Mercury once, ‘It’s not a question of money any more. I spend money like it’s nothing. You know I could be penniless tomorrow, but I’d get it back somehow.’ But, still, the love of music remained. He conceded that there would come a time when he couldn’t dash about the stage and added, ‘But music will always be my thing.’

  There was, however, a special pleasure for Mercury this tour. In January, while recording Hot Space, he had taken time off to sing backing vocals, along with Roger Taylor, on ‘Emotions in Motion’ by American rocker Billy Squier. Squier was to form a friendship with Mercury, and on learning of Queen’s US tour he agreed to join them as their celebrity guest.

  Starting at the Forum in Montreal, the tour ended at the Los Angeles Forum on 15 September 1982. It was to be, little did they realise, Queen’s last ever American tour. Six dates in Japan followed a month later, ending with a massive outdoor gig at Tokyo’s Seibu Lions Stadium. Then they returned to Britain in time to enter into protracted, though ultimately fruitless, negotiations with Elektra over the renewal of their contract. In December, as an interim measure, they signed all albums to EMI.

  Splitting from the US record label coincided with Queen’s decision to take a year off. This might have shocked their fans, but privately it had been brewing for a while. Living and working so closely for twelve years had taken its toll, with serious arguments within the band a regular feature. They were simply exhausted and getting on each other’s nerves. A rest was required if they hoped to survive as a band. The music press did their best to turn their announcement that they would not be touring for the next twelve months into a three-act drama. But Mercury dampened their imaginations by declaring, ‘It’s got to the point where we’re actually too old to break up. Can you imagine forming a new band at forty? Be a bit silly, wouldn’t it?’

  A year off cleared the way to undertake solo projects, and Mercury was quick to book time at Musicland Studios with Mack. He had nurtured aspirations of creating music without Queen for some time and was looking forward to the challenge. No sooner had he begun on his solo work than he got sidetracked. Producer Giorgio Moroder invited Mercury to collaborate with him. Moroder had won an Oscar for his music for Alan Parker’s Midnight Express and was working on an updated version of the classic silent fantasy Metropolis. When Moroder’s Metropolis was released the following year, Mercury’s contribution to its soundtrack joined those of Adam Ant, Bonnie Tyler and Billy Squier among others.

  Although Mercury’s original plans had stalled, he was not in a hurry to rush out his debut solo album during Queen’s year off. Indeed it would be two years before it surfaced. He meanwhile enjoyed spending some overdue free time with Winnie Kirkenberger, generally living it up in Munich. At times he overdid it, once ending up with his leg in plaster for six weeks. Rumours that he’d been involved in a club brawl were scotched, but when his jealousy was aroused, for all his foppish front, Mercury could be aggressive.

  His drug intake must take some of the responsibility for his violent tendencies too. It was hard for friends to predict his moods. He was quite capable of flying into sudden uncontrollable rages, when he would demolish
furniture and roar abusively at the top of his voice. Afterwards he’d remember nothing. Reports that once, in the grip of a sexual drug-crazed frenzy, the star tried to strangle Barbara Valentin are not true: ‘That just never happened,’ says Valentin. ‘I don’t know where that story came from.’

  Mercury considered he knew the world’s hottest spots, but he was always open to suggestion – particularly if it sounded risky. In New York, he visited the Gilded Grape, where he’d been warned he would need a bulletproof car and fast driver at the ready. Such ingredients were guaranteed to take him panting downtown, on the scent. After several weeks of manic clubbing and sex, he suddenly gave up his nocturnal city prowling for the sunnier climes of California.

  He had arranged to meet Michael Jackson, who was working on his follow-up to Thriller, with a view to recording with him. But before that was possible, Mercury had something else to do. As he would later admit in a rare interview he gave to Radio One DJ Simon Bates, after weeks of excess he needed to get himself fit before undertaking any work with the health-conscious Jackson. ‘There was an attitude built in there,’ says Bates. ‘Freddie felt that if he was physically in shape, he would be mentally disciplined.’

  Mercury joined Michael Jackson at his private studio in Encino, where they completed ‘Victory’ and ‘State of Shock’. Mercury was still using cocaine, and initially, while recording with Jackson, aware of his views on the matter, he would discreetly vanish to the toilet. But the necessity to disappear so often irritated Mercury. Although he was not in the habit of wilfully upsetting outsiders with his behaviour – be it drug-taking or homosexuality – this time he grew sloppy. Seemingly Jackson witnessed Mercury snorting cocaine, and this was enough to freeze their friendship. As a result, the tapes of their two duets are unreleased. ‘State of Shock’ did surface a year later on one of Michael Jackson’s albums, but Mick Jagger had replaced Mercury as guest vocalist.