My son emailed me one Monday. Doing anything tomorrow night?
I replied that no, I didn’t have anything on.
Well, now you do. I have two tickets for you, for the Queen concert.
Blow me standing, as Queen might even say.
I couldn’t find anyone to go with (Mark would rather watch paint dry than Queen live) – so my son went with me. I confess I had never heard of Adam Lambert until that moment, and figured he was the opening act, and also, by-the-by, who would be filling in for Freddie Mercury?
I went to the Roger Waters concert last year, and while it was good, even brilliant, it was so polished, rehearsed and computerized, that you were left feeling that you hadn’t so much attended a concert, as you had watched a micro-managed performance.
Queen was the complete opposite. Oh, they were rehearsed and smooth and there were some lasers and stuff, but they relied nearly completely on their music and playing to entertain. Even my son, who thought he would be bored out of his brain a) enjoyed himself and b) recognized far more of the songs than he thought he would and c) confessed that he finally understood what a live rock concert should be – and that Queen had delivered on that score.
There were guitar solos and a stunning two-set drum solo (Roger Taylor and his son on the other set).
And there was Adam Lambert.
As a fill-in for Freddie Mercury, I think Lambert was perfect. He had the vocal range and he had the power. He was openly and flamboyantly gay, which put just the right twist on the songs (I loved “Killer Queen” – when he lolled on a chaise longue to sing the song).
But mostly, I was impressed with the power of his singing. I get shivers down my back when I hear really good singers, especially live, and because Lambert and the songs, and the history of Queen fit so well together, I found myself screaming like a teenager and having the time of my life.
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