Another rollicking good time at the Hammo last night. It seems tribute bands are all the rage at the moment. It was Led Zeppellin a couple of months ago and we have Pearl Jam and Bon Jovi on the horizon. But last night it was the turn of Killer Queen, a tribute to Queen (obviously) dutifully attended by daughter, son-in-law, son-in-law’s mate and your humble correspondent.
Whereas the Led Zepp tribute sounded really good, not only did the Queen guys sound good, they even looked like Queen. So we had Freddy with the obligatory black short back and sides and the 70’s pornstar moustache, Brian May with the still black shaggy curls and John Deacon with the gravity defying front bouffant which looked like it was about to tumble down his face.
But make no mistake, these guys spent more time on music than appearance and nailed it. The night did, however get off to a rather confusing start. We were advised that the Freddy character was sick and the John Deacon character would do the singing. Now a lot of the Queen songs contain some pretty lengthy and unmistakable bass runs so I was a bit dubious as to how the poor bugger would be able to handle both roles. But as the intro to the first song was being played, out bounded Freddy like Trevor Gillmeister off his death bed in State of Origin III in 1995 to lead an unexpected triumph.
Of course there were those iconic moments to look out for and the crowd didn’t disappoint when it came to their (our) turn. Everyone remembers the head banging scene from Bohemian Rhapsody in Wayne’s World. This was faithfully reproduced by all of the women with long shaggy hair. Sorry, but it doesn’t work with a sensible haircut. And the spontaneous hand clap (well it was spontaneous at Live Aid in 1985) for Radio Ga Ga was there if a little disjointed. But we only had a few hundred people, not 72,000.
And when Freddy told the ladies that the next song was especially for them and the unmistakable intro to Fat Bottomed Girls started I scanned the fat bottoms for signs of rebellion but thankfully that potential tipping point passed without a descent into chaos or at least indignant detachment.
My review of the Led Zepp tribute also featured a crowd review because when we’re talking about bands with their origins in the distant past, all manner of enthusiasts emerge from the shadows. This time the attendees seemed a tad more middle of the road with more women than men by my estimation. I expected the gay community to be out in force and maybe they were, I just didn’t notice. Anyway, one thing’s for certain; when the band starts up all of the tall men and short women push their way to the front. Lucky the child bride wasn’t there or she would have been somewhat miffed.
At the end I commented to my daughter that most of the songs we heard were recorded before she was born, some of them a decade or more before she was born. I don’t know how to adequately explain this but it’s like time has condensed or concertinaed in recent decades. Had I been her age and we were listening to music from a similar time in my past, we’d be listening to Glen Miller and when I was 30 that was never going to happen.